mi 






IT 



SIDE LIGHTS 



HISTORY 



.Hi. A, 3 I I 



:,. F. HENDERSON 



U 



III 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

ChapiZ(L5<2pCopyriglit No 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




MAKY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 
( Engraved by Goltz at the time of her execution.) 



SIDE LIGHTS 



ON 



ENGLISH HISTORY 

BEING EXTRACTS FROM 
LETTERS, PAPERS, AND DIARIES OF THE PAST THREE CENTURIES 

COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY 

ERNEST F.^ HENDERSON, Ph.D. 

Author of '•^History of Ger;iia?iy in the Middle Ages." Editor of 
'•'•Select Historical Documents." 




NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPAxNY 

1900 



'\ 



4128 

TWo Copied 
Llbrtrr or c«. 

jy^ 111900 

SECOND COPY, 



62944 

COPYRIGHT, igCX), 
ERNEST FrHENDERSON. 



Eo JSu Sister, 

M. W. H., 

WHO FIRST RECOMMENDED TO ME THE STUDY 

OF HISTORY, 

THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY 

Bt'bunte'ti. 



PREFACE 



ALL hail to the new spirit that is permeating the methods of teaching and 
studying of history, in New England especially, hut also as far as the 
influence of the thousand-membered American Historical .Society extends. It 
is the veritable spirit of the Renaissance ; the spirit that made those fifteenth 
century scholars hunt for manuscripts, and that caused Luther to found his theo- 
logical teachings on the actual text of the Bible. Here was a cloud of witnesses 
capable of relating their own experiences as men to men and needing no veil of 
priestly mystery. 

To those who have followed the movement the rapid increase of so-called 
source-books of history forms a ver)' interesting phenomenon. ^Ve have tliem 
for American, English and general mediaeval histor}^ we are promised them for 




1 XJcujffnsioisi: memanZiSie tens fjclt , 
I 3o vilvTuCSmg Sis cds sieGst 
1 Scurtzec in armutfScHmjicn vmCs^uC 
liDanotiS mcn^cfjsey sic aCzcit 
! Xa mci^ai tfBci^cri ^em bcrcic ■ 
I ^S^ie^el&'h andbtn. scnucn-nJufT 
I 'L.ucijcrs VTuCseinsr^csclTcn^iir : 
.) JisrjHimmeCsie mchz Ceit^n. Kunf v 



^Zan sienitjcoC^ecSii^t tcerahi — !jx 

Orieo sieder Z^eC(jiotts_ Imvms ^ j ^_^ 

"WiO-dr trie^cn^ zJicfucaim£zizr^\\ ^^ 
,Jm Ji'alhz muse (cDcn ^z^njac-,,-^^ g^ 




In the original (see opposite page) , following out tlie motto " I am outwardly painted and inwardly accursed," 
the skirt lifts up and displays these skeleton legs, the coffin, serpent and temptation. 



vi Preface 

the history of Greece and Rome. There is scarcely a publisher of repute who 
is not announcing something of the kind ; several universities are publishing 
periodical leaflets. Historical associations devote whole sessions to the question 
of rendering available such material. Teachers have found that this first-hand 
evidence rouses the interest of their students and dignifies their pursuit. It 
becomes to them what the fiowers are to the botanist or the actual cases and 
decisions to the young lawyer. The movement is spreading even beyond the 
guild. The painter Verestchagin lays aside his brush to piece together the nar- 
ratives of survivors of Napoleon's Russian campaign and gives a product of 
realism as fine as anything he has done on canvas. 

In the time devoted to the learning of a given number of pages in some 
condensed history it is now recognized that one can read a different kind of 
matter more widely and gain better results. Many facts become clear of them- 
selves. Who, for instance, can doubt Pitt's attitude towards the American war 
who has once heard him say in parliament, "You may traffic and barter with 
ev'ery little pitiful German prince that sends his subjects to the shambles . . . 
your efforts are forever vain and impotent. ... If I were an American as I am 
an Englishman, I never would lay down my arms — never — never — never"? 
Such illustrative material makes the cardinal facts stand out as though printed in 
letters of flaming fire. And the student is led on almost unconsciously to an 
appreciation and criticism of authorities, to the proper use of libraries, to the 
assimilation and combination of data, to orderly and thorough thinking. Above 
all, the personalities become real and definite. 

By such writings we are initiated as by no other possible means into the 
spirit of the time. I ask you to witness the execution of the Qiieen of Scots 
through the eyes of the person who was appointed to tell Lord Burleigh all 
about it ; to follow the parliaments of Charles I. and of Cromwell at the hand of 
men who served in them. Often the chief actors are our chief informants. 
These are voices that speak to us directly; the rest is merely commentary. 

In a work like this pi'esent collection it is of course not expected of me to be 
thorough, or in any way to explain causes and results. My aim is to give color, 
and, above all, life. If I can make these people seem as real to others as they 
do to myself I shall have achieved something worth the effort. It is to this 
personal element in history that I have largely confined myself. Every great 
event is equally susceptible of this kind of illustration, only it would take very 
many volumes to accomplish the task. It is enough for the present to h?"e 
lifted the mask from the kings and queens and from such prominent personages 
as the Pretenders, the Marlboroughs, the Electress of Hanover, the wife of 
George I. Naturally my work is elementary : I can only give specimens from a 
large body of literatuie full of its own interest to those who have time to devote 
to it. 



Preface vii 

A word as to the way in which this book may be made most useful to the 
student : I should suggest that he be given a topic corresponding to the heading of 
one of my thirty-two groups and be asked to make an abstract of its saHent points 
from his text-book. After he has done this, and added some supplementary read- 
ing, I should consider him to have reached a frame of mind most suitable for 
approaching the sources. These are less concentrated and, I hope, more lively 
and entertaining than the majority of the narratives. Many dim facts will stand 
out more clearly after their perusal. All acquisitions to the knowledge already 
gained from the modern authorities should be carefully noted in writing. Riper 
scholars can subject them to a fire of criticism, comparing them with statements 
of other contemporary authorities. 

It may not be out of place here to summarize the results likely to be obtained 
from the perusal of one or two of the groups. Space forbids our continuing the 
analysis through all the topics, but the table of contents will be sufficiently 
extended to remedy the deficiency. 

In Group I. we start out with the personality of Queen Elizabeth, and are 
fortunate enough to have an account of her at the time of her accession in 155S, 
when she was already full blown as to her externals, and "for her internals, 
grown ripe and seasoned with adversity." We next find her addressing the 
Parliament on the all-important subject of her marriage, and shaking at them a 
finger on which gleams the ring with which she has solemnly espoused herself to 
the kingdom. When she dies she wishes to have engraved on her tomb, " Here 
lies Elizabeth, who liv'd and died a maiden Qiieen." There follow a series of 
extremely interesting letters sent by his different ambassadors in London, Feria, 
Aquila and Quadra to Philip II. at Madrid, and only recently published from the 
rich archives of Simancas. How much cunning and perseverance was ■wasted 
by these intriguing priests ! — at first to get a footing in the palace at all, and then 
to tempt her to make such a match as will suit Spain's interest, perhaps Philip 
himself, — but the King is not to commit himself. "If she inclines to your 
Majesty," writes Feria, " it will be necessary for you to send me orders whether 
I am to carry it any further or throw cold water on it and set up the Archduke 
Ferdinand." In the case of one envoy after another hope gives place to 
despondency and the post is given up ; there are laments that this queen is very 
different from " Her majesty now in Heaven," and a final cry of rage from 
Feria that this country " has fallen into the hands of a woman who is a daughter 
of the devil." These correspondents have much to say about Robert Dudley, 
later Earl of Leicester, and his extreme intimacy with the Queen. " The 
Queen told me that Robert's wife was dead, or nearly so," writes Qriadra, " and 
asked me to say nothing about it. Certainly this business is most shameful and 
scandalous;" and again, " Since writing the above I hear the Qiieen has pub- 
lished the death of Robert's wife," and said, in Italian, " She broke her neck. 



viii Preface 

She must have fallen down a staircase." Philip writes to Qiiadra to take 
advantage of Elizabeth's love for Robert, but to trust to nothing that she does 
not give him in black and white. In a strange interview with the loving pair 
Qiiadra promises them his master's support, but at the price of the overthrow of 
the ministers in power. Nothing comes of the matter, but Leicester remains in 
the highest favor at court and accompanies the Qiieen in her different progresses. 
We see her at Cambridge and Oxford, turning the heads of all the doctors and 
making Latin speeches to them with such grace and modesty that the "wildest 
cheers" and blessings were bestowed upon her. "The walls, and even the 
windows and benches," writes one of them, "seemed to resound deafeningly 
with the voices of our men." The group ends with the letter of a French 
envoy, Chateauneuf, to his King, written in 15S6, and giving an account both of 
the Queen's accomplishments and her shortcomings. The Earl of Leicester is 
still in high favor, indeed "the first man in England after the said lady;" but, 
alas for that early lover's romance, he is now fifty-three or four years old and has 
"grown verjf rotund." 

In Group II. we at once come into a more sombre atmosphere, and find 
Elizabeth signing the death warrant of Mary Qiieen of Scots and maintaining 
stoutly in her letters to Mary's son, James of Scotland, that she cannot " keep 
the serpent that poisons her," or make herself " a goodly prey for every wretch 
to devour." Old Melville, she says, "hath years enough to teach him more 
wisdom than tell a prince of any judgment such a contrarious, frivolous, maimed 
reason." Then we enter Fotheringay castle at the hand of Mary's body phy- 
sician, Bourgoing, and learn of the first intimation to her that she must die 
shortly. She was in bed when the emissaries appeared, but sent word that if it 
was an urgent matter she would rise and dress. So seated in a chair at the foot 
of her bed she waited the knell of doom, and, guilty or innocent, made a most 
calm and heroic rejoinder to the formal announcement. A letter of hers, in which 
she tells of hearing them hammer away at her scaffold, was discovered too late 
to be inserted in this collection. She arranges her affairs, and at dead of night 
sits down and writes (No. 4) to her brother-in-law, Henry III. of France, 
asking his good offices for her servitors. " As for my son, I recommend him to 
j'OU according to his merits, for I can not answer for him." By command of 
Lord Burleigh, Robert Wingfield, or Wynkfield, who is present, writes with the 
utmost detail of everything that happened in Mary's last hour ; with uncomppo- 
mising realism he depicts her as fat, round-shouldered, broadfaced, double- 
chinned and with false auburn hair. But he then goes on to faithfully describe 
one of the most touching and dignified death scenes that has ever been chronicled 
in the whole history of man. As she walks to the scaffold her faithful Melville 
throws himself on his knees and asks what his countrymen will say when he 
brings them this fatal news. " Carry this message from me," she said, " that I 



Preface ix 

died a true woman to my religion and like a true woman of Scotland and 
France." The details of the actual execution are gruesome enough — her lips 
" stirred up and down almost a quarter of an hour after her head was cut off ! " 
This is almost on a par with the death of the Earl of Argyle in 1685, whose 
headless bod}', " by the great commotion and agitation of the animal and vital 
spirits," rose up and had to be pulled down by the attendants (see p. 164). The 
letter of Elizabeth to James, disavowing her share in the execution, seems to 
have been designed for the public eye — it is not in keeping with those that went 
before. The messenger who bore it is afraid to risk being murdered by the 
incensed Scotch; but James accepts the explanation of yon utihappy fact^ or 
will accept it if it be made worth his while. Nevertheless a coolness ensues 
which is ended by Elizabeth (I) declaring that ^//e " is willing to drink most 
willingly a large draught of the river of Lethe." Wilson maintains (No. 10) 
that James's own emissary had persuaded Elizabeth to sign the death warrant, 
declaring that " Mortua non mordet " (when she is dead she cannot bite). 

In Group III. we are introduced to Admiral Howard and Sir Francis Drake 
at the moment of the first reliable intimation of the sailing of the Spanish 
Armada in 15SS. The whereabouts and strength of that fleet give rise to the 
wildest reports. Drake himself writes to the Queen that between four and five 
hundred ships are known to be approaching. He wishes to meet them off their 
own coasts, but is overruled, and doubtless bears his disappointment bravely, 
for Howard writes to Secretary Walsingham, " Sir, I must not omit to let you 
know how lovingly and kindly Sir Francis Drake bears himself." So the ships 
remain in the channel, and are forced to ride out some terrific gales, during 
which, however, to quote Howard, "we may compare that we have danced as 
lustily as the gallantest dancers at Court." In order that the Spaniards may not 
slip by unobserved and land their forces on the English shore the fleet is divided 
into thi-ee parts, within signalling distance of each other. When they do appear, 
one hundred and twenty sail in all, Howard manages to get to windward of them 
and do them considerable damage. They have been forced so far to leeward, 
writes Drake, "as I hope in God, the Prince of Parma and the Duke of Sidonia 
shall not shake hands this few days." Three other engagements take place, in 
the last of which the Admiral, about twelve of the clock at night, sent six small 
ships with intrepid crews which set fire to and then abandoned them in the midst 
of the enemy's great hulks. The Spaniards cut their anchors and fled precipi- 
tately, but one great galleass went ashore off Calais. The taking of this is most 
graphically described in a letter of a Richard Tomson to Secretary Walsyno-ham 
(No. 6). The Spanish fleet suffers terribly fi-om storms on the coasts of Ireland, 
and the Governor of Connaught writes to the Qiieen of the extent of the damage 
within his province and the ruthless butchery of those unfortunates who swim 
ashore. 



X 



Preface 



In Group IV. we follow Qiieen Elizabeth through her declining days. 
Bishop Goodman tells how in this same year of the Spanish defeat, when he him- 
self was a young boy residing " at the upper end of the strand," Elizabeth came 
after dark to the Church of St. Clement, and how graciously she addressed the 
people. By this time, alas, she was growing wrinkled and had a goggle throat 
— a great gullet hanging out. Goodman mentions a report that "the ladies had 
gotten false looking-glasses, that the Qiieen might not see her own wrinkles." 
She is still very coy with her courtiers, and Cary, Earl of Monmouth (No. 3), 
has much ado in making her forgive him for having committed the crime of 
matrimony. In 159S, Paul Hentzer, a cultivated German on his travels, is 
admitted to kiss her hand and describes the genuflections and general oriental 
ceremonial at her court, going on then in a highly entertaining way to dilate on 
the general peculiarities of the Englishman of that day. While he is with the 
Queen, W. Slavata, a Bohemian nobleman, is brought in and presented, the same 
who twenty years later took his phenomenal flight from the window of the 
Prague Castle and started the Thirty Years' War. In the next selection, again 
from Goodman, we find the aged monarch merrily entertaining Duke Prussiano, 
a "courteous and brave nobleman" ; and the bishop goes on to relate how 
" then did the Qiieen dance a galliard very comely, and like herself, to show the 
vigour of her old age." But soon after the clouds begin to descend on all sides. 
The beloved Essex heads a conspiracy and is imprisoned ; Thomas Lea, between 
nine and ten at night, waits in the Queen's antechamber meaning to seize her 
person and make her sign a warrant for the Earl's release. " He only meant to 
vex her for half an hour, that she might live the merrier all her life after," but 
both he and Essex lose their heads. All this preys on the poor old lady's mind, 
and everything seems to portend her ruin. The ring of espousal to the kingdom 
has grown into the flesh and has to be cut in two ; she cannot fail to see that the 
eyes of all are turning to the rising sun ; day after day she sits in deep melan- 
choly, afraid to go to bed lest she should never rise again. At last after a reign 
of forty-four years she "enjoys a blessed remove from this world to a better," 
and her 3,000 gowns, worth at peddler's prices £100,000, are taken to Holland 
and sold. Her successor, not altogether unnaturally, abhors her memory, but to 
the people she is always good Qiieen Bess. 

E. F. HENDERSON. 

Redwood Cottage, Dublin, N. H., 
May 4, 1900. 



Table of Contents 



Page 

Group I. The Personality of Queen Elizabeth . . . 1-9 

Her appearance and comportment at the time of her accession — . 
reasons for remaining single — espousal of tlie kingdom — reversal 
of tlie policy of Bloody Mary — intrigues of the Spanish ambas- 
sador — his interest in her marriage — his despair — the love affair 
with Robert Dudley — mysterious death of Robert's wife — Philip 
II. 's favor courted — a scene on shipboard — a visit to Cambridge 
— brilliant reception — a visit to Oxford — the splendid procession 
— the Qiieen's raiment — her blushing speech — the deafening ap- 
plause — the sad departure — further characteristics of the Qiieen 
— the sequel of the Leicester romance. 

Group II. The Execution of Mary Q_ueen of Scots . . 9-1 8 

Elizabeth induced to sign her death-warrant — the necessity of 
doing so explained to James VI. — the announceinent to Mary — 
her firmness — her reply — her protestations of innocence — loyalty 
to her religion — affecting letter to her brother-in-law — description 
of her person and attire — her march to the scaffold — farewell to 
Melville — message to Scotland — her calmness and cheerfulness — 
details of her last moments — disavowal on the part of Elizabeth 
— correspondence with James — her willingness to forget — 
James's attitude. 

Group III. The Spanish Armada ...... 18-3:; 

First news of the great fleet — Spaniards flying English flags — 
exaggerated reports — Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher anxious to 
sally forth — storm — lusty dancing — division of English fleet into 
three parts — dread of sickness — working to windward — first fight- 
ing — requests for powder and shot — chasing the Spaniards — the 
taking of the great galleass — the despatch of the fire-ships — the 
flight of the Armada — the pursuit — pestilential sickness — destruc- 
tion of Spanish ships — massacre of survivors. 

Group IV. The End of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth . 36-33 

A glimpse of the Qiieen — her graciousness — her goggle throat — 
wrinkles — the looking-glass story — displeasure at a courtier for 
marrying — his pardon — arrival of a traveler — his reception — his 
description of the Queen — elaborate ceremonial — W. Slavata — a 
visit to Windsor — the order of the Garter — shrewd criticism of 
the English — the Qiieen's reception of Duke Prussiano — she 
dances at seventy — the treason of Essex — attempt to seize the 
Queen' s person — the confession of Essex — declining health — mel- 
ancholy state — aversion to physic — resolution not to take to her 
bed — death — her 3,000 gowns. 



xii Table of Contents 



Page 

Group V. Characteristic Traits of James I. . . . 33-42 

Fondness for the chase — a French envoy — the question of mourn- 
ing — Sully's retinue change their apparel — a royal dinner — Eliza- 
beth's memory slighted — James's appearance — disgusting habits • 
— his favorites — the Qiieen — his wit — his diatribe against tobacco 
foolish arguments — exorbitant duty placed on tobacco — medita- 
tions on the Lord's Prayer — diatribe against all who do not 
believe in witchcraft — approves of putting witches to death — 
wives and children to be heard as witnesses — law against sorcery 
— an interview with a subject — a scurvy jest about witches — 
James's remarks on his mother's bloody head — on tobacco — 
Anne of Denmark's funeral — James more like a wooer than a 
mourner — bathes his legs in stags' bellies — peppers the Puritans. 

Group VI. The Gunpowder Plot . . . . . . 43-47 

The letter to Lord Mounteagle — its contents studied — the King's 
solution — a search ordered — the apprehension of Guy Fawkes — 
discovery of the powder — the rack — the confession — account of 
the mine — intention of proclaiming the Lady Elizabeth queen. 

Group VII. The Marriage of the Princess- Elizabeth to 

the Count Palatine ....... 47-54 

Arrival of the Palsgrave — favorable impression — illness of the 
heir apparent — festivities in the Palsgrave's honor — the prince's 
illness grows alarming — had never shed his teeth — application of 
warm birds — Sir Walter Raleigh sends him a cordial — his death 
— the wedding postponed — finally celebrated — magnificent dis- 
plays — masques — Lord Bacon's show — entreats the King not to 
"bury them quick " — the show deferred — finally takes place — a 
slanderer punished. 

Group VIII. The Spanish Marriage Project . . . 55-60 

Prince Charles's Journey to Spain — his progress — Jack and Tom 
— the jewels — Charles's arrival — running at the ring — prisoners 
freed — a sight of the infanta — her dowry — her stiffness at inter- 
views — doubts and delays — the Prince's return — the end of a 
delusion. 

Group IX. Charles I. and Henrietta Maria of France . 61-66 

Encomiums on the princess — the marriage — from London Bridge 
to Whitehall — the twenty-nine priests — Charles 'no convert — a 
queen's frown — priestly insolence — Charles's heroic interference 
— the Qiieen breaks glass windows — dismissal of the French reti- 
nue — the last of a rapacious horde — the reality vs. V^an Dyck's 
portraits. 

Group X. Parliamentary Grievances Against Charles I. . 67-84 

Dissolution of Parliament of 1625 — bitter feelings — Parliament of 
1626 — recriminations — commitment of members — dissolution — 
general dejection — shifts to raise money — hatred of Buckingham 
— parliament of 1628 — stanch upholding of liberties — passion- 
ate remonstrances — clamors against the Duke of Buckingham — 



Table of Contents xiii 

Page 

murder of the Duke of Buckingham — arbitrary taxation — ship 
money — miseries of Ireland — trial of Strafford — his magnificent 
defense — his desertion by the King — the Five Members — their 
flight — their triumphant return — the eve of the Civil War. 

Group XI. Trial and Execution of Charles I. . . . 85-92 

Disagreement of Lords and Commons — the high court of justice 
— the charge — the hearing — the King's attitude — the sentence — 
indignities — the last hours — majestic deportment — the scene on 
the scaffold — the death — Milton's cynicism — general horror and 
grief — the fate of the hangman. 

Group XII. Characteristic Traits of Oliver Cromwell . 92-103 

His plain apparel — stature — countenance — voice — conference — 
pillow-fight — violent dissolution of the Long Parliament — the 
Instrument of Government — a speech to Parliament — Parliament 
refractory — summary coercion — a purification — Cromwell vs. 
Ludlow — objection to the celebration of Christmas Day — illness 
of Cromwell — his death — his funeral. 

Group XIII. Specimens of Parliamentary Proceedings 

UNDER THE COMMONWEALTH . . . . . . IO4-II5 

Discussions on vagrancy, high-living, etc. — Cromwell's assent — 
the case of James Nayler, a Qiiaker — horrid blasphemy — sug- 
gested punishments — the sentence — Cromwell's letter — agitated 
debates — question of jurisdiction — the matter dropped — the title 
of king — a Sabbath bill — a bill against profane and idle sitting. 

Group XIV. The Return and Coronation of Charles II. . 1 15-134 

Harbingers of the Restoration — General Monk — dissolution of 
the Rump Parliament — Parliament and the King — the King's 
declaration — his poverty — joyous anticipation — Pepys and Charles 
on shipboard — the King's account of his adventures — the land- 
ing — entry into London — civic festivities — the fate of the Regicides 
— the glories of Coronation Day — general rejoicings. 

Group XV. The Plague of London ..... 124-131 

Beginnings of the plague — gradual increase — a stricken maid — 
sad sights — the question of periwigs — frightful mortality — a 
private letter — the crisis passed — the reawakening of London — 
comical incidents. 

Group XVI. The Fire of London ...... 131-143 

First observed — Pepys' s activity — Pepys and the King — pulling 
down houses — removal of goods — enormous extent of the flames 
— Evelyn's experiences — eloquent description of the scene — 
Pepys iDuries his treasures — curious sights — the ruins of St. Paul's 
— a walk through the city. 



xlv Table of Contents 



Page 

Group XVII. The Court of Charles II. .... 142-1^7 

Revels and license at court — the arrival of the Qiieen — her ugly 
ladies — the Qiieen and Lady Castlemaine — general discontent — 
levity of courtiers — the pursuit of pleasure during the plague and 
fire — the court lies abed — new fashions of dress — cruel amuse- 
ments — shutting up the Exchequer — a fire-eater — The Duke of 
York's apostasj' — gay toilets — a jockey dinner — Miss Jennings — 
a raid on Prince Rupert's laboratory — squabbling ladies — Prince 
George of Denmark — Charles's death-bed — a priest in disguise — 
death and funeral — characteristics of Charles — death of Pepys. 

Group XVIII. Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth . . i^S-170 

Early relations of Monmouth and James II. — the bill for exclud- 
ing James — Monmouth's share in the Rye House Plot — his letter 
of submission — his equivocal conduct — his banishment — the 
change of ruler — proclamation of James II. — his protestations 
i-egarding i-eligion — the coronation — Argyle in Scotland — his 
weak conduct — his execution — gruesome details — Monmouth's 
landing — a fugitive mayor — Monmouth's declaration — a haughty 
answer from Albemarle — the course of hostilities — Monmouth's 
capture — his prayers for mercy — horrible execution. 

Group XIX. The Arbitrary Rule of James II. . . . 170-1S0 

Description of the King by a partisan — James's Memoirs — pious 
observances — contrast to Charles II. — the standing army — the 
repeal of the test acts — the King's treatment of his parliament — 
insolence of Popish party — severity towards the rebels — Kirk's 
cruelties — Jeffries on the western circuit — his characteristics — the 
case of Mr. Tutchin — a righteous retribution — increase of Papists 
— the arrest of the seven bishops — birth of the Prince of Wales 
— trial of the seven bishops — dread of invasion. 

Group XX. The Coming of William and Mary . . . 1S1-193 

Confidence of the Dutch in William — alarm of the King and 
court — apathy of the common people — the sailing of the Prince's 
fleet — Bishop Burnet — the storm — the return — the landing — the 
Prince at Exeter — the King loses heart — the garrison of York — 
treatment of Reresby — Prince George and Princess Anne aban- 
don James — Lord Dartmouth's urgent advice — disturbances in 
London — Lord Dartmouth's consternation — the King's flight — 
his attempt at self-justification — declared to have abdicated — the 
Prince and Princess declared sovereigns — the oaths of allegiance 
— the Qrieen's unseemly levit}- — Bishop Burnet's palliation of it. 

Group XXI. The Stuarts in Exile ..... 193-205 

French versions of the events of the Revolution — arrival of the 
Qiieen — her reception by Louis XIV. — distinguished honors — 
rich gifts — arrival of James II. — the French King's bounties — 
Qiiestions of etiquette — the Qiieen' s popularity — questions of 
jjrecedence — the King resigned to his fate — thanks God for his 
chastenings — his departure for Ireland — generosity of Louis XIV. 
— the battle on the Boyne — Mat Prior and " old James" — death 



Table of Contents xv 



of Tames II. — recognition of his son by Louis XIV. — the old 
Pretender solicits Qiieen Anne — an ardent Jacobite — the Pre- 
tender's farewell to France — a Qiiaker's generosity — amusing 
experiences of an English traveler — the young Pretender's hand 
kissed — shall the young Pretender come to Boston.? 

Group XXII. Char.\cteristic Traits of William and Mary 205-214 

Youth and education of William — Monsieur Bentinck — marriage 
of William and Mary — Bishop Burnet's description of their 
characters — the question of William's future position in Eng- 
land — William's ill health and gravity of disposition — |5vejudices 
against him — the Q_ueen's illness — her death — grief of William — 
the treaty of Ryswick — William's illness and death. 

Editorial. The Spanish Succession War .... 314-217 

Group XXIII. Queen Anne and the ^Marlboroughs . . 217-227 

Peculiar v^^ays of the Duchess of Marlborough — affectionate let- 
ters to her from " Mrs. Morley " — rejoicings at the battle of Blen- 
heim — Bishop Burnet's wife in praise of Marlborough — Marl- 
borough made a prince of the Empire — Marlborough's alarm at 
the influences brought to bear on the Qiieen — the Qiieen's affec- 
tion for the Marlboroughs — discordant notes — letter of the Duch- 
ess against Mrs. Masham — a stormv interview with the Qjieen — 
the enemies of Marlborough — Swift's attitude — Prince Eugene 
in London — measures against Marlborough — mob insults — the 
Marlboroughs leave England — ill-natured sketch of the Qiieen 
by the Duchess — letter of the Duchess thirty years later. 

Group XXIV. The Hanoverian Succession .... 328-237 

Arrangements for the ill-fated marriage of George I. — a merce- 
nary spirit at the court of Osnabruck — the acquisition of Hanover 
— amusing description of the palace — proceedings in the English 
Parliament regarding the Succession — the death of the Duke of 
Gloucester — sentiments of the Hanoverian court — a prophecy as 
to the steps that Parliament will take — the prophecy comes true 
— shall a member of the House of Hanover take up his abode in 
England? — Leibnitz in favor of insisting — false alarms as to the 
Qiieen's death — sharp letter of Qiieen Anne to the Elector George 
— the Electress's vexation — her death. 

Group XXV. George I. and the Princess of Ahlden . . 237-244 

Marriage of George and Sophia Dorothea — Konigsmark — ill- 
treatment of Sophia Dorothea — the Countess Platen — scene in 
the Opera House — disappearance of Konigsmark — proceedings n 

for divorce — a hearing before the ministers — the Princess in cap- 
tivity — last hours of Qiieen Anne — George I. proclaimed King — 
his petty character — influence of the Duchess of Kendall — sub- 
serviency of the ministers — George I. and the English — Horace 
Walpole's account of the finding of Konigsmark' s body — 
George II. and his mother. 



xvi Table of Contents 

Page 

Group XXVI. King George II. amd Queen Caroline . . 244-253 

The coronation — borrowed finery — the Qiieen's influence over 
her husband — her patient endurance of him — Robert Walpole 
and the Qiieen — George's absence in Hanover — his English an- 
tipathies — discontent of the people — pasquinades — the quarrel 
with Prince Frederick — strong language of the Qiieen — illness of 
the Qiieen — medical methods — the King's anxiety — petty out- 
bursts — the Qiieen's death — the King's real grief — characteristics 
of Caroline — characteristics of George — his peculiar habits. 

Editorial. The Seven Years' War ..... 253-355 

Group XXVII. The Accession of George III. . . . 255-265 

George III. as a youth — his indolence — his gloomy disposition — 
character of Lord Bute — his influence over the princess dowager 
— his rise into power — chai-acter of Pitt — his eloquence^his 
popularity — his general influence — change of policy at George's 
accession — Pitt and Bute — project of marriage — Lady Sarah 
Lennox — the Princess of Mecklenburg — tii vas etre Heine 
d' Angleterre — the wedding service — the landing in England — 
Spanish insolence — the quarrel with Pitt — Pitt's resignation — 
popular clamor — Bute's relinquishment of conquests — a scathing 
satire. 

Group XXVIII. William Pitt and the American War of 

Independence ......... 266-272 

Denunciation of the tea-tax — praise of Americans — defense of 
property rights — the spirit of Whiggism — exhortation to repeal 
the tax — to stop the war — a speech from the throne — England's 
ignominious position — you can not conquer America — disgrace- 
ful happenings — Bourgoyne's surrender — the Hessian soldiers — 
the employment of Indians — hell-hounds of savage war — the 
last speech — affecting eloquence — the death stroke. 

Group XXIX. George III. and his Heir Apparent . . 272-2S3, 

George IV.' suntruthfulness — his extravagances and debauch- 
eries — his debts — his club life — the King's illness — his disordered 
mind — the rising sun — severe medical treatment — the struggle for 
authority — heartless conduct — the King is shaved — Dr. Willis — 
Pitt — the King's symptoms — the question of regency — partisan 
physicians — the Duchess of Gordon — an adventure with a maniac 
— signs of betterment — Miss Burney frightened — the Regency 
Bill put off — the King rapidly recovers — regency caps — acrimony 
of parties — the ball at Brookes' s — the King's experiences while 
in bathing. 

Group XXX. The Death of Nelson ..... 2S4-290 

False news about the French fleet — Nelson' s impatience at Merton 
— Nelson himself again — his care for the new signal-code — the 
Nelson touch — news of the victory — experiences on board the 
Victory — England expects every man will do his duty — details of 
the conflict — at close quarters — Nelson's wound — in the cock-pit 



Table of Contents xvii 



— affecting interview with Hardy — death in the arms of victory 
— the first wording of the signal. 

Group XXXI. The Battle of Waterloo .... 291-297 

Wellington's exultation — Blucher to his wife — embraces Welling- 
ton — Blucher' s account of Napoleon's escape — details of the battle 
by an officer of the guards — Wellington the genius of the storm — 
his dress — the last onslaught — a pleasant interlude with the Prus- 
sians — a 3'oung officer's experiences — Gneisenau's point of view 
— Napoleon's diamonds — the greatness of the victory — heavy 
losses — the question of executing Napoleon — decided by Wel- 
lington — Gneisenau's disappointment. 

Group XXXII. An American Minister at the Cot^rt of 

London .......... 297-300 

The charming old Qiieen — the glories of the plumes and crino- 
lines — British beauty — an evening with the royal family — strange 
appeal to trial by combat in an English nineteenth century court 
of law. 



List of Illustrations 



To Face l>Ar.E 

Prixce Albert. Engraved from the painting b\- Partridge . . 300 

Anne of DE^■^rARK, ^vlFE of James I. Engraved by Honliraken . 35 

An Ally of Qiieen Anne. Engraved by Schenck .... 219 

Queen Anne. Engraved by J. Smith ...... 226 

Augustus the Strong of Saxoxy. Engraved by R. White in 1697 217 

Blucher. Engraved in 1815 ........ 293 

Heads of Blucher and Wellington. From Booth's Battle of 

Waterloo ........... 291 

George Villiers, Duke of BucKrNG>[AM. Anon. From Van der 

Werft's painting .......... 73 

Rebus on Bute. Contemporary ....... 265 

Queen Caroline. Contemporary ....... 246 

Catherine of Braganza, wife of Charles II. Engraved by 

Melaer ............ 143 

Charles I. Engraved by Beckett from a painting by Van Dyck . 61 

Charles I., with Charles II. Anon. From Van Dyck's painting 64 

The Children of Charles I. Modern engraving of Van Dyck's 

painting ........... S7 

Charles II. Engraved b)- Brown in 1678 from Sir Peter Lely's painting 120 

Charles II. of Spain . . . . . . . . . 214 

Charles III. of Spain (afterwards Emperor Charles VI.). Engraved 

by Weigel . . . . . . . . . . . 216 

The Emperor Charles VII. Engraved by Pfeffel .... 249 

Charles XII. of Sweden. Engraved by Schenck . . . . 220 

Queen Charlotte. Engraved by the Ryders in 1S04 from the paint- 
ing bv Beechey .......... 277 

Oliver Cromwell. Engraved by Mazot (double page) ... 92 

Oliver Cromwell. Probably by Schurtz . . ... . . 104 

The Empress Elizabeth of Russia. Engraved by Stenglin . . 254 

Queen Eliz,\beth. Engraved by Greatbach from an original painting i 

Elizabeth of Bohemia. Engraved by Delph from a painting of 

Miereveld's in 1623 ........ 

Prince Eugene. Engraved by Vogel ..... 

The Emperor Francis I. Engraved by Ph. A. Kilian 
Frederick the First, King of Prussia. Engraved by Weigel 
Frederick the Great. Engraved l:)y Schleuen 
Frederick the Great and Peter III. making peace 
Frederick, Count Palatine. Engraved by Delph from a painting of 

Miereveld's in 1622 . . . . . , . . , 48 



51 
224 

253 
213 

253 
356 



XX 



List of Illustrations 



George I. Engraved in 17 14 . 

George II. Anon. ........ 

George II. Engraved by Pfeffel . . . . 

George III. as Prince of Wales. Engraved by McArdell 
George III. Engraved by Benj. Smith in 1S04 from the painting by 
Beechey ........ 

George IV. Anon. ....... 

Gneisenau. Engraved by Carl Mayer 

Henrietta Maria. Engraved by Schurtz in 1629 

James I. Print of 1604 A. D. . 

King James and his Family. Later \vorl<ing over of original by 

Crispin de Passe ......... 

James II. Anon, contemporary ....... 

Ja:«es III. (the Pretender). Engraved by Thomassin in 1703 , . 
The Seizure of Judge Jeffries by the People. Modern repro 

duction of old print ........ 

The Emperor Joseph I. ....... . 

Leibnitz. Engraved by Ficquet ...... 

The Earl of Leicester. Anon, contemporary 

The Emperor Leopold. Engraved by le Poutre ... 

Louis XIV. Engraved by George Kilian ..... 

Louis XV. of France. Engraved by Petit from the painting by Vanloo 

Louis William of Baden. Engraved by C. Heiss . 

The Empress Maria Theresia. Engraved by Pfeffel 

The Duchess of Marlborough. Engraved by J. Smith 

The Duke of Marlborough. Engraved by Valk . 

Mary Queen of Scots. Engraved by Golz about 15S7 

Mary Queen of Scots. Engraved by J. West 

Queen Mary. Anon, contemporary .... 

Queen Mary Beatrix. Anon, contemporary . 

Maximilian Emmanuel of Bavaria. Anon. . 

James Duke of Monmouth. Engraved by Picart in 1724 

Napoleon before the Battle of Waterloo. Engraved from the 

picture by Goubaud painted during the hundred days 
Napoleon on the Island of St. Helena. From a lithograph of 

Horace Vernet's painting . . . . 

Nelson. Engraved in Italy in 1799 .... 

The Death of Nelson ...... 

Peter the Great. Engraved by J. Smith in 1697 
William Pitt. Anon. ...... 

Philip II. Anon. Most probably contemporary 

Philip V, of Spain. Engraved by Hafner 

An illustrated news-leaf, contemporary, concerning 

ishment of the Regicides .... 

Prince Rupert. Anon. ...... 

Slavata. Anon, contemporary . . 

The Electress Sophia. Engraved by Schenck in 1710 



To Face Page 
242 



244 
248 

272 
274 

62 
40 

33 
162 

199 

178 
216 



230 

6 

214 

197 

251 
216 

25+ 
221 

222 

Frontispiece 

9 
191 

193 
215 

159 



296 

297 
284 
287 
218 
278 
2 

2X1 

121 

84 

28 

234 



List of Illustrations xxi 

To Face Page 

Sophie Charlotte, Electress of Brandenburg. Engraved by 

Hainzelmaiin in 16S9 ......... 239 

Sophia Dorothea, Daughter of George I. Engraved by J- Smith 

>" 1715 243 

Thomas Eare of Strafford. Engraved by R. White from Van 

Dyck's painting .......... ^9 

The Tea-Tax Tempest. An Allegorical representation . . . 270 

Wellington. Engraved by Fielker from Beechey's painting . . 293 

William of Orange as a Boy. Engraved by Crispin van Qiiebooren 20^ 

William and Mary. Anon. ........ 208 

William OF Orange (King William III.). Engraved by Jean Verkalje iSi 
Prince William Henry (Later William IV.). Engraved by Barto- 

lozzi from a painting by West ....... 29S 

King William IV. Anon. ........ 300 

Queen Victoria. Anon, (about 1S40) ...... 3.00 

The Christening of the Prince of Wales. Caricatures drawn 

in 1S41 ........... 300 




QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
(Engraved by Greiitbach from the original by N. Hiliiard.) 



SIDE LIGHTS 



ON 



ENGLISH HISTORY 



GROUP I. 

THE PERSONALITY OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 



I. Extract from Sir Robert Naun- 
ton, " Fragmenta Regalia." (Printed 
together with Gary's Memoirs. Edin- 
burgh, 1 80S.) 

. . . Her destiny had decreed to set 
her (Elizabeth) an apprentice in the 
school of affliction, and to draw her 
through the ordeal fire of trial, the 
better to mould and fashion her to rule 
and sovereignty: which finished, and 
Fortune calling to mind that the time 
of her servitude was expired, . . . de- 
livered up into her custody a sceptre, 
as a reward for her patience, which 
was about the twenty-sixth year of her 
age — a time in which (as for externals) 
she was full-blown ; so was she for her 
internals grown ripe and seasoned with 
adversity, and in the exercise of her 
virtue. . . . 

She was of personage tall, of hair 
and complexion fair, and therewith 
J well-favored, but high-nosed, of limbs 
and feature neat, and, which added to 
the lustre of these exterior graces, of 
stately and majestic comportment, par- 
ticipating in this more of her father 
than mother, who was of an inferior 
allay [alloy?], plausible, or, as the 



French hath it, more debonaire, and 
affable virtues which might well suite 
with majesty, and which descending, 
as hereditary to the daughter, did ren- 
der her of a more sweeter temper, and 
endeared her more to the love and lik- 
ing of the people, who gave her the 
name and fame of a most gracious 
and popular Prince ; the atrocity of 
her father's nature being rebated in 
hers, by the mother's sweeter inclina- 
tions. . . . 



2. Answer of Elizabeth to the Speak- 
er of the House of Commons, 1559. 
(In Gamden, Life and Reign of Queen 
Elizabeth. Originally in Latin.) The 
Speaker had begged her, in the name 
of the Parliament, to " accept some 
match capable of supplying heirs to 
your royal virtues and dominions." 

. . . "I have made choice of such a 
state as is freest from the incumbrance 
of secular pursuits and gives me the 
most leisure for the service of God : 
and could the applications of the most 
potent princes, or the very hazard of 
my life, have diverted me from this 
purpose, I had long ago worn the hon- 



Elizabeth 



ors of a bride. These were my senti- 
ments ■when I was but a private per- 
son ; but now that the care and weight 
of a kingdom lies upon my shoulders, 
to add to these the incumbrance of the 
married state would be no point of dis- 
cretion in me : But that I may give you 
the best satisfaction I can, I have long 
since made choice of a husband, the 
Kingdom of England. And here," 
continues she, "is the pledge and em- 
blem of my marriage contract, which 
I wonder you should so soon have for- 
got." With that she shewed them her 
linger with the same gold ring upon it 
with which she had solemnly and form- 
ally betrothed herself to the Kingdom 
at her inauguration. After she had 
paused a little, " I beseech you," said 
she, "gentlemen, charge me not with 
the want of children, for as much 
as every one of you, and every Eng- 
lishman besides, are my children and 
relations. . . . Should it be my lot 
to continue as I am, a Virgin Queen, 
I doubt not but the providence of God, 
seconded by your counsels and my own 
measures, wll so dispose matters as to 
put the question of a successor out of 
all debate. . . . For my own part, I 
desire no better character nor fairer 
remembrance of me to posterity than 
to have this inscription on my tomb 
■when I come to pay iny last debt to 
nature : ' Here lies Elizabeth, who liv'd 
and died a Maiden-Queen.' " 



3. Correspondence of Spanish En- 
voys in London with Philip II. (From 
State Papers ; Spanish Series. ) 

Feria to Philip II. 

Dec. 14, 155S. 
... It gives me great trouble every 
time I write to your Majesty not to be 
able to send more pleasing intelligence, 
but what can be expected from a country 



governed by a Queen., and she a young 
lass, who, although sharp is without 
prudence, and is every day standing up 
against religion more openly.? The 
kingdom is entirely in the hands of 
young folks, heretics and traitors, and 
the Qiieen does not favor a single man 
whom her Majesty, who is now in 
Heaven, would have received, and will 
take no one into her service who served 
her sister when she was Lady Mary. 
On her way from the Tower to her house 
where she now is, she saw the Marquis 
of Northampton, who is ill with a 
quartan ague, at a window, and she 
stopped her palfrey and was for a long 
while asking him about his health in 
the most cordial way in the world. 
The only true reason for this was that 
he had been a great traitor to her sister. 
. . . She seems to me incoinparably 
more feared than her sister, and gives 
her orders and has her way as abso- 
lutely as her father did. ... I am 
trying to get a chamber in the palace 
when she goes to Whitehall, although 
I am very i"nuch afraid they ■will not 
give me one ; . . . they are so suspi- 
cious of me that not a man amongst 
them dares to speak of me. . . . They 
are all very glad to be free of your 
Majesty, as if you had done harm instead 
of very much good. . . . Truly they 
run away from me as if I were the 
Devil. The best thing will be to get 
my foot into the palace, so as to speak 
oftener to the Queen, as she is a woman 
who is very fond of argument. Every- 
body thinks that she will not marry a 
foreigner and they cannot make out 
whom she favours, so that nearly every 
day some new cry is raised about a hus- 
band. . . . The most discreet people 
fear she will marry for caprice. . . . 
I do not know which way the Queen 
is inclined, for on the one hand she 
complained to me of her sister's having 
married a foreigner, and on the other 




PHILIPPVS K.D.G.HISPANIARVM 

ET IlSrDIARVM REX CATOEICVS 

ARCHIDVX AVSTRIiE.. 



J^ 



Elizabeth 



I see she is very vain and as much set 
an;ainst her sister as slie was previous 
to her death. I fancy I can get at her 
througli tliis feeling : . . . we must tell 
her that one of the reasons the Qiieen, 
now in heaven, disliked her was her 
fear that if she died your Majesty would 
marry her (Elizabeth). ... If she 
inclines to your Majesty it will be neces- 
sary for you to send me orders whether 
I am to carry it any further or throw 
cold water on it and set up the Arch- 
duke Ferdinand. . . . When I left on 
that day I sent her by the Admiral's 
wife the two rings that your Majesty 
gave me which belong-ed to the late 
Qiieen, because as I saw she was so 
fond of her jewels I thought best to 
give her up even the poorest of them. 
... I told her about the jewels which 
were in the box at Whitehall and said 
I would give her the key when I came. 
She accepted. I have heard also that 
the Queen, now in heaven, ordered in 
her will that the jewels given to her by 
your Majesty and the Emperor should 
be returned to you, and these people 
had concealed this and kept the jewels. 
Seeing this I thought best to say that 
your Majesty would be very pleased for 
her to have them if she wanted them. 
. . . She is very fond of having things 
given to her, and her one theme is how 
poor she is. . . . Both times I have 
spoken with her have been in the pres- 
ence chamber crammed with people, 
and what with this and all these gifts, 
I think I never saw her so carried away 
as she was to-day. 

April II, 1559. 
. . . After she had finished with the 
Portuguese, slie called me to her and 
asked whether I had letters from your 
Majesty. I told her yes, and that on 
the next day I would give her any 
information she wanted about them, 
but that I could not do so then, as I 
was so angry with her and so annoyed. 



She . . . began to say she had heard 
your Majesty was married, smiling, 
saying your name was a fortunate one, 
and now and then giving little sighs 
which bordered upon laughter. I told 
her ... I could not rejoice to see your 
Majesty married to any one else but 
her. . . . To this she retorted that it 
was your Majesty's fault it had fallen 
through and not hers. . . . She . . . 
afterwards went on to say that your 
Majesty could not have been so much 
in love with her as I had said, as you 
had not had patience to wait four 
months for her, and many things of the 
same sort, as if she was not at all 
pleased at the decision adopted by your 
Majesty. . . . 

May loth. 
What can be said here to j'our 
Majesty is only that this country, after 
thirty years of a government such as 
your Majesty knows, has fallen into the 
hands of a woman who is a daughter 
of the Devil, and the greatest scoundrels 
and heretics in the land. (Exit Feria, 
Ed.] 

Bishop of Aquila to Philip. 

May 30th. 
. . . We [the queen and the bishop] 
continued at this for some time wasting 
words, and at last she said she was re- 
solved not to marry except to a man of 
worth whom she had seen and spoken 
to, and she asked whether I thought the 
Archduke Charles would come to this 
country that she might see him. ... I 
do not know whether she is jesting, 
which is quite possible, but I really be- 
lieve she would like to arrange for this 
visit in disguise. I turned it to a joke. 
. . . Robert [Dudley] is as highly fav- 
ored as usual. . . . I am not sure about 
her for I do not understand her. 
Amongst other qualities which she says 
her husband must possess is, that he 
should not sit at home all day amongst 



4 



Elizabeth 



the cinders, but should in time of peace 
keep himself employed in warlike ex- 
ercises. 

July 27th. 
I have lost all hopes in the affairs of 
this woman. She is convinced of the 
soundness of her unstable power, and 
will only see her error when she is ir- 
retrievably lost. In religious matters 
she has been saturated ever since she 
was born in a bitter hatred to our faith, 
and her one object is to destroy it. If 
your Majesty were to give her life and 
all in it, as you did once before, she 
would never be more friendly than she 
is now, and she would, if she had the 
power, sow heresy broadcast in all your 
Majesty's dominions to-day, and set 
them ablaze without compunction. 
Besides this her language (learnt from 
Italian heretic friars who brought her 
up) is so shifty that it is the most diffi- 
cult thing in the v^'orld to negotiate with 
her. With her all is falseness and 
vanity. [Exit Aquila. — Ed.] 

Bishop Quadra to the Dutchess of 
Parma. 

London, Sept. 11, 1560. 
Since writing, news of importance is 
current here which I convey to your 
Highness. . . . She (the Qiieen) had 
promised me an answer about the mar- 
riage by the third instant, and said she 
was certain to marry ; but now she 
coolly tells me she cannot make up her 
mind and will not marry. After this I 
had an opportunity of talking to Cecil 
[Lord Burleigh], who I understand was 
in disgrace and Robert [Dudley] was 
trying to turn him out of his place. 
After exacting many pledges of strict 
secrecy, he said the Queen was con- 
ducting herself in such a way that he 
thought of retiring. He said it was a 
bad sailor who did not enter port if he 
could when he saw a storm coming on, 
and he clearly foresaw the ruin of the 



realm through Robert's intimacy with 
the Queen, who surrendered all affairs 
to him and ineant to marry him. He 
said ... he should ask leave to go 
home, although he thought they would 
cast him in the Tower first. He ended 
by begging me in God's name to point 
out to the Qiteen the effect of her mis- 
conduct, and persuade her not to aban- 
don business entirely but to look to her 
realm ; and then he repeated twice over 
to me that Lord Robert would be better 
in Paradise than here. . . . He ended 
by saying that Robert was thinking of 
killing his wife, who was publicly an- 
nounced to be ill, although she was 
quite well, and would take very good 
care they did not poison her. He said 
surely God would never allow such a. 
wicked thing to be done. I ended the 
conversation by again expressing my 
sorrow without saying anything to 
compromise me, although I am sure he 
speaks the truth and is not acting crook- 
edly. . . . The next day the Qiieen 
told me as she returned from hunting- 
that Robert's wife was dead, or nearly 
so, and asked me not to say anything 
about it. Certainly this business is 
most shameful and scandalous, and 
withal I am not sure whether she will 
marry the man at once or even if she 
will marry at all. Cecil says she wishes, 
to do as her father did. Their quaiTels 
cannot injure public business, as nobodv 
worse than Cecil can be at the head of 
affairs, but the outcome of it all miglit 
be the imprisonment of the Qi.ieen and 
the proclamation of the Earl of Hunt- 
ingdon as King. . . . Cecil says he is 
the real heir of England, and all the 
heretics want him. ... The cry is 
that they do not want any more women 
rulers, and this woman may find herself 
and her favourite in prison any morn- 
ing. . . . 

Since writing the above I hear the 
Queen has published the death of Rob- 



Elizabeth 



5 



ert's wife, and said, in Italian, '-She 
broke her neck." She must have fallen 
down a staircase. 

Quadra to the King. 

Nov. 20th, 1560. 

. . . Cecil has given way to Robert, 
who they say was married to the Queen 
in the presence of his brother and two 
ladies of the chamber. . . 

Jan. 33d, 1561. 

Since writing the enclosed letter 
Henry Sidney, who is the bi'other-in- 
law of Lord Robert, came to see me. 
He is a sensible man and better be- 
haved than any of the courtiers. He 
began by beating about the bush very 
widely, but at last came to his brother- 
in-law's affairs and said that as the 
matter was now public property, and I 
knew how much inclined the Qiieen 
was to the marriage, he wondered that 
I had not suggested to your Majesty 
this opportunity for gaining over Lord 
Robert by extending a hand to him 
now. ... I told him that what I had 
so far heard of this matter was of such 
a character that I had hardly ventured 
to write two lines to your Majesty about 
it, nor had either the Qiieen or Lord 
Robert ever said a word to me that I 
could write. . . . He said that if I 
was satisfied about the death of Rob- 
ert's wife, he saw^ no other reason why 
I should hesitate to write the purport 
of this conversation to your ■ Majesty, 
as, after all, although it was a love af- 
fair, yet the object of it was marriage, 
and that there was nothing illicit about 
it or such as could not be set right by 
your Majesty's authority. As regards 
the death of the wife, he was certain 
that it was accidental, and he had never 
been able to learn otherwise, although 
he had enquired with great care and 
knew that public opinion held the con- 
trary. I told him if what he said were 
true the evil was less, for, if murder 



had been committed, God would never 
help nor fail to punish so abominable 
a crime, whatever men might do to 
mend it, but that it would be difficult 
for Lord Robert to make things appear 
as he represented them. He answered 
it was quite true that no one believed 
it, and that even preachers in the pul- 
pits discoursed on the matter in a way 
that was prejudicial to the honour and 
interests of the Qiieen. . . . He said 
the Qiieen would not mention the mat- 
ter to me unless I began the conversa- 
tion, but that I might be sure that she 
desired nothing more than the counte- 
nance of your Majesty to conclude the 
match, and that Lord Robert would 
come to me and beg me to write to your 
Majesty what I heard from him. . . 

The above is exactly what passed, 
and for some days I had suspected that 
the Qiieen had some such idea, but as 
the business is altogether such a bad 
one, I did not venture to broach the 
subject. ... It is possible that if she 
finds herself unable to obtain your Maj- 
esty' s favour, she may throw herself to 
the bad. . . Things have reached such 
a pitch that her chamberlain has left 
her, and Axele of the Privy Chamber 
is in prison for having babbled. . . 

He (Robert) begged me to speak to 
the Qiieen at once. I did so two days 
afterwards. . . . After much circum- 
locution she said she wished to confess 
to me and tell me her secret in confes- 
sion, which was that she was no angel, 
and did not deny that she had some 
affection for Lord Robert for the many 
good qualities he possessed, but she had 
certainly never decided to marry him 
or any one else. . . . 

Philip II. to Quadra. 

March 17th, 1561. 
. . . Try also to lead the matter on 
to a more solid basis, as for instance 
by bringing the Qiieen and Lord Rob- 



Elizabeth 



ert into it, and getting in writing and 
signed by her whatever the Queen may 
wish to be proposed to you. This is 
necessary, as her words are so little to 
be depended upon, and you know by 
experience you have had of her that 
this is always the course she pursues 
when she has no intention of fulfilling 
what she says, and only wishes to use 
our authority for her own designs and 
intentions. . . . 

Quadra to Philip. 

June 30th. 
. . . On the day of St. John the Queen 
ordered me to be invited to a feast given 
by Lord Robert. ... In the afternoon 
we went on board a vessel from which 
we were to see the rejoicings, and she, 
Robert and I being alone on the gal- 
lery, they began joking, which she likes 
to do much better than talking about 
business. They went so far with their 
jokes that Lord Robert told her that, if 
she liked, I could be the minister to 
perform the act of marriage, and she, 
nothing loth to hear it, said she was 
not sure whether I knew enough Eng- 
lish. I let them jest for a time, but at 
last spoke to them in earnest, and told 
them that if they listened to me they 
could extricate themselves from the tyr- 
anny of the councillors who had taken 
possession of the Queen and her affairs. 
... If they did this they could effect 
the marriage they spoke of. . . . As 
things were I did not think the Qiieen 
would be able to marry except when 
and whom Cecil and his friends might 
please. . . . 

Guzman de Silva to Philip II. 
Oct. 2d, 1564. 
. . . On Michaelmas day, with the 
usual ceremony, here the Qiieen created 
Lord Robert, Baron and Earl of Leices- 
ter, which they say is a title usually 
given to the second sons of the Kings 
of England. . . . 



4. A Visit to Cambridge in i^&d^. 
(From a pamphlet entitled " The Tri- 
umph of the Muses, or The Grand 
Reception and Entertainment of Qiieen 
Elizabeth at Cambridge.") 

. . . Then came the Trumpetters, 
and, by solemn blast, declared her 
Majestic to approach. Then followed 
the Lords in their order and degree. 
Her almoner, the Bishop of Rochester, 
bareheaded, with the Bishop of Ely. 
Then the Garter King at Arms, in his 
royal cote ; with divers Sergeants at 
Arms. Then the Lord Hunsdon with 
the sword, in a royal scabbard of gold- 
smith's work. And, after him, the 
Queen's Majestie (with a great com- 
panie of ladies and maids of honour). 
. . . And so she was brought among 
the Doctors ; when all the Lords and 
Ladies did forsake their horses ; and 
her Majestie only remained on horse- 
back. 

She was dressed in a gown of black 
velvet pinked : a call upon her head, 
set with pearles and pretious stones ; a 
hat that was spangled with gold and a 
bush of feathers. . . . 

When the Qiieen' s Majestie came to 
the west doore of the church. Sir 
William Cecyl kneeled down and wel- 
comed her Grace, shewing unto her the 
order of the doctors. And the Bedells, 
kneeling, kissed their staves ; and so 
delivered them to Mr. Secretary ; who 
likewise kissed the same, and so deliv- 
ered them to the Queen's hands; who 
could not well hold them all. And 
her Grace gently and merrily re-deliv- 
ered them, willing him and other mag- 
istrates of the University to minister 
justice uprightly, as she trusted they 
did. Or she would take them into her 
own hands, and see to it. Adding 
that, although the Chancellor did hault 
(for his leg was sore, as is before men- 
tioned), yet she trusted that Justice did 
not hault, . . . 




OVDLJLl CmmB's LiCEST^f, en, ova ^StypE^TC, 
SA/L i^namtm wonmfus SMar£s dumivue erah 



Elizabeth 



Then Mr. William Master, of the 
King's College, orator, making his 
three curtesies, kneeled clown upon the 
first greese or step of the west door 
(which was, on the walls outward, 
covered with verses) and made his 
oration, of length almost half an hour. 
. . . First he praised and commended 
many and singular vii'tues set and 
planted in her Majesty. Which her 
Highness not acknowledging of she 
shaked her head, bit her lips and her 
fingers ; and sometimes broke forth 
into passion and these words, " Non 

est Veritas, et utinam " . . . Then 

she alighted from her horse and asking 
of what degree every doctor was? 
offered her hand to be kissed. . . . 
And as she went, she " thanked God 
that had sent her to this University, 
where she, altogether against her ex- 
pectation, was so received that, she 
thought, she could not be better." 



5. A Visit to Oxford in 1566. (From 
John Bereblock's Commentary. In 
Plummer's Elizabethan Oxford. Ox- 
ford, 18S7. Editor's translation 
from the Latin.^ 

On the last day of August, the 
brightest that we i-emember in our 
whole lives, — it was a wonderfully 
clear Saturday, — her royal Majesty, 
coming from Woodstock, directed her 
way with a large train of attendants 
towards Oxford. The Earl of Leices- 
ter had previously come with his suite 
to add the weight of his dignity and 
office in preparing the town for the 
intended function and to receive with 
us her royal Majesty. On this day, 
accompanied by some of the doctors in 
their jjurple gowns and also by some 
of the heads of the colleges (who, in 
consideration of their more exalted 
rank, drove in carriages, wearing the 
appropriate robes of their own facul- 



ties), he went out to meet the Sov- 
ereign. . . . Having proceeded tw^o 
miles from the town (to the line where 
our jurisdiction ends) they greeted the 
most serene monarch with a felicitous 
and eloquent oration, which Marbeck 
delivered in their name and in that of 
the whole university. Then they moved 
towards Oxford, the peasants and farm- 
ers running out from the villages and 
settlements to greet her, their shouts 
and cheers making the hills and dales 
ring with the royal name and might. 

Nor does it seem beneath our regard 
for the royal dignity to tell in what 
rank and order the different men 
marched. . . . First came the Aca- 
demic lictors with their golden staves, 
to show the way, as it were. Then 
followed the noblest princes, in high 
good spirits, adorned to the last degree 
with royal magnificence — among them 
those inen of supreme rank, the Earl of 
Leicester, the Chancellor of the Uni- 
versity and the Mayor of the town. 
Then the royal lictors, in magnificent 
array, preceding the monarch with 
huge maces; just behind them the Earl 
of Sussex bore the sword, resplendent 
with its jewelled hilt, its golden belt 
and its embossed scabbard. Then at a 
short distance, at a slow and noble 
pace, followed the most august mon- 
arch borne along on a raised golden 
throne. Her palanquin was open on 
all sides, being carried by distinguished 
knights clad in purple and advancing 
with measured steps. 

Lest the curious may ask in vain 
about her raiment, she had on the top 
of her head a little net sparkling with 
spun gold, with drops and pearls. 
Then her dress of state, a woman's 
toga of silk, was of richest purple 
shining with threads of gold. Her 
outer garment was similar, of scarlet 
tinged with purple, with a fur lining 
of dazzling whiteness and inarked with 



8 



Elizabeth 



black spots, such as might have been 
worn in a triumph. 

Nor ought I to pass over here what 
the most illustrious queen, with the ut- 
most grace and suavity, did towards the 
end of our [oratorical] contest. For 
with the utmost condescension, lest by 
the harsh proof of her silence she might 
have seemed to scorn and despise our 
efforts, she looked round on the assem- 
bly and began with incredible facility 
[in Latin] to make an address which 
thrilled the souls of all. . . . Womanly 
timidity and modesty made her at first 
hesitate and appear diffident. She 
seemed to blush with maidenly shame 
froin this display of her age and her 
learning, and to shrink with a certain 
ingenuous bashf ulness from the task of 
speaking. But it was wonderful to see 
how the unutterable love of all of us 
affected her reluctance. For so did the 
whole assembly hang with eager hope 
and expectation on her lips and dis- 
course that she w^as ui'ged on, strength- 
ened and reassured in mind, and de- 
livered before us an oration in about 
these words : — 

She was listened to by all in silence 
and with rapt attention, but was after- 
wards greeted with the wildest cheers 
and blessings. The walls, and even 
the windows and benches, seemed to 
resound deafeningly with the voices 
of our men, and our words to come 
back to us more distinctly than we had 
uttered them. 

The next day, Friday, dawned for 
us more calamitously than the preced- 
ing ones. For even as, previously, the 
coming of our Sovereign had wonder- 
fully delighted us, so, this day, her 
sudden departure the more grievously 
afflicted us. But we were obliged 
to bring our minds to it, for so had 



hard fate previously arranged and or- 
dained. . . . 

She, meanwhile, sad and mournful, 
mingled her own grief with ours. She 
seemed to feel this parting very much 
and to bewail her lot as she rode along. 
She is said to have bitterly regretted 
leaving us before she had visited any of 
the colleges or heard a sermon by one 
of our divines. They say that never 
before had she been so sad at ending a 
visit as now at leaving our town. With 
protestations to this effect, and often 
looking at us most graciously, she 
passed through the. Eastern gate and 
Magdalen College and came to the con- 
fines of the university. Here once 
more Marbeck told her how pleasant 
in itself, and what a boon to the uni- 
versity her presence had been, how 
much more eager it would make us all 
in our studies, how it would spur us 
on, what a spark it had ignited. He 
thanked her most profusely in the name 
of all. After which speech the differ- 
ent doctors prostrated themselves at 
her feet. . . . She graciously raised 
them and gave them her right hand 
to kiss. . . . 



6. Extract from the Report of the 
French Envoy, Chateauneuf, to his 
King. In Teulet Paplers d' JStat, 
Vol. II. p. 807, 1586. Translated. 

. . . The said lady, to speak of her 
peculiar characteristics, is a very pru- 
dent and accomplished princess who 
has been very well brought up. She 
plays all sorts of instruments, speaks 
several languages, and even Latin, very 
well, is intelligent and quick-witted, a 
woman with a deep sense of justice, in 
no way tyrannizing over her subjects, 
and who was beautiful when she was 
young. Besides all this a great man- 
ager and almost miserly, very high and 
quick tempered, and, above all, excess- 
ively jealous of her position. 



Elizabeth 



On her coining to the thione she 
made much use in public affairs of Mr. 
William Cecil, her Secretary of State, 
whom she afterwards made Lord Bur- 
leigh and Grand Treasurer of England. 
He was still living when I arrived in 
the said kingdom ; a wise, prudent, 
pacific and thrifty man, vs'ith a clear 
and acute mind — a man who can say 
with truth that he has been a splendid 
servant, as indeed his mistress has 
always placed great confidence in him. 

She has had Lord Dudley, later Earl 
of Leicester, whom she has always 
greatly loved since she was young, and 
indeed he was a very handsome gentle- 
man, honorable and courteous ; and at 
the time of my arrival he was about 
fifty three or four years old and had 
grown very rotund. These two men 
are the ones who during the whole of 



her reign have had most influence with 
her ; and in fact I believe that the man 
in all the world she came nearest to 
marrying was this Earl of Leicester, 
having had a wonderful affection for 
him which she herself did not conceal. 
And although, as 1 have said, she had 
been sought by many great princes, 
like our three dauphins, by Archduke 
Charles, brother of the late Emperor 
Maximilian, by the King of Sweden, it 
is the said Earl of Leicester who came 
nearest to marrying her. However, 
the said lady having made up her mind 
not to marry at all, she has greatly ele- 
vated him and all his relatives ; so 
much so that at tlie time of my arrival 
he might have been called the first man 
in England after the said lady. [This 
was 2 2 years after the scene on ship- 
board. — Ed.] 



GROUP II. 

THE EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 



I. Extract from Sir James Melville's 
Memoirs (Publ. Bannatyne Club, 1S27, 
p. 355 ff.). Spelling modernized. 

1586. 

. . . Now they that were enemies 
to our Qiieen and King's [Mary and 
James VI.] title to the right of the 
crown of England, seeing some of their 
fetches to fail them, entered in deliber- 
ation what way to proceed in the taking 
of the Qiieen's life. Sometimes they 
minded to give her an Italian posset 
[powder], sometimes to slay her at the 
hunting in a park, but at length, by 
way of an assize, to convict her. . . . 

All their calumnies and false accusa- 
tions being presented in writing unto 
the Queen of England, her heart would 
not suffer her, as she alleged, to let any 
sentence be given forth against the 
■Qiieen, her dear sister and cousin, so 



near of her royal blood, until the coun- 
cil, nobility and estates, at least such as 
were seduced to that effect, sat down 
upon their knees, humbly requesting 
her Majesty to have compassion upon 
their unsure estate, albeit she cared not 
for her own, by the practices of the 
Queen of Scotland. Whereby she 
was at length moved, for very pity of 
them, to give forth the sentence of death 
upon the Queen, with condition that it 
should rather serve to be a fear and 
terror unto her, to cause her to cease 
from making any more practices, than 
that she would see the blood of so noble 
a princess to be shed. And in the 
meantime the written sentence was 
given in keeping to Mister Davison, 
one of her secretaries, and not to be 
delivered without her Majesty's express 
command. 



lO 



Elizabeth 



Nevertheless, the said Davison being 
desired by the council, afterwards de- 
livered unto them the said written sen- 
tence of death. Whereupon they gave 
the Queen warning a night before, to 
prepare her for God. . . . 



2. Extracts from Letters of Qiieen 
Elizabeth to King James of Scotland. 
(Publ. by Camden Society, 1849.) 

January, 1586-7. 
. . . You may see whether I keep 
the serpent that poisons me when they 
confess to have reward [5/c]. By 
saving of her life they would have had 
mine. Do I not make myself, trow ye, 
a goodly prey for every wretch to de- 
vour ? Transfigure yourself into my 
state, and suppose what you ought to 
do, and thereafter weigh my life and 
reject the care of murder, and shun all 
baits that may untie our amities, and 
let all men know that princes know 
best their own laws, and misjudge not 
that you know not. . . . 

Feb. I, 1586-7. 

. . . They will make [out] that her 
life may be saved, and mine safe ; which 
would God were true, for when you 
make view of my long danger endured 
these four — well nigh five months, . . . 
the greatest wits . . . will grant with 
me that if need were not more than my 
malice, she should not have her merit. 

And now for a good conclusion of 
my long-tarried-for answer. Your 
commissioners tell me that I may trust 
her in the hand of some indifferent 
prince, and have all her cousins and 
allies promise she will no more seek 
my ruin. Dear brother and cousin, 
weigh in true and equal balance whether 
they lack not much good ground when 
such stuff serves for their building. 
Suppose you I am so mad to trust my 
life in another's hand and send it out 
of my own ? . . . Old Master Melvin 



hath years enough to teach him more 
wisdom than tell a prince of any judg- 
ment such a contrarious, frivolous, 
maimed reason. Let your councillors, 
for your honor, discharge their duty so 
much to you as to declare the absurdity 
of such an offer. . . . Though like a 
most natural, good son you charged 
them to seek all means they could 
devise with wit or judgment to save her 
life, yet I cannot, nor do not, allege 
any fault to you of these persuasions. 
... I doubt not but your wisdom will 
excuse my need . . . and not accuse 
me either of malice or of hate. . . . 



3. Extract from the Journal of Bour- 
going, Mary's body physician. (Chan- 
telauze : Marie Stuart, pp. 571 ff.) 
Translated from the French. 

Monday the sixth of February the 
dean of Peterborough and some othei s 
came to dine with Sir Amyas [Mary's 
jailor]. After dinner Mr. Beale 
arrived at the apartment all alone, 
remained closeted with Sir Amyas and 
then returned to the village. 

Tuesday, Feb. 7th, several came,, 
one of whom we think was the sheriff, 
and dined with Sir Amyas. After din- 
ner the Earl of Kent, and last of all 
Mr. de Shrewesbury. At their coming 
we were in a great state of distraction 
and fear, having during the past three 
days fancied that many things boded ill 
for her Majesty in her straits, and sus- 
pecting that surely the blow was about 
to fall. 

They sent \vord to her Majesty that 
they wished to speak to her, and she 
answered that she was in bed, but that 
if it was an urgent matter she would 
ask for a little time in which to rise 
and dress. 

Having been told that it was an 
affair of importance her Majesty pre- 
pared to receive them in her room, 
seated in her chair at the foot of her 



Elizabeth 



1 1 



bed ; and when the said two Earls had 
come, together with Mr. Beale and Mr. 
Paiilet and Sir Dm Drury, the Earl of 
Shrewesbury uncovering his head — 
while all the rest standing together did 
not uncover themselves during the 
whole time the}' were talking to her — 
commenced by saj'ing that the Qi-ieen 
of England had sent them to her, in 
her own name and that of her Estates, 
to inform her that having proceeded, 
as she knew, honorably and as expe- 
diency demanded in her affair, she 
having been accused, found guilty and 
condemned, as she knew and as the 
Queen had taken care she should be 
informed, she should hear read her 
sentence which he and the Earl of 
Kent together with Mr. Beale had 
been appointed to carry out, as she 
should hear. 

Thereupon said Beale commenced to 
read it, written on parchment with the 
great seal of England appended, and in 
it her Majesty was called Mary Stuart, 
daughter of James V., otherwise known 
as Qiieen of Scots and Dowager of 
France. 

When this had been read her Majesty, 
very firmly and without emotion, re- 
plied that she thanked them for such 
agreeable news ; that they were doing 
her a great benefit in removing her 
from this world, whence she was well 
content to go on account of the misery 
she saw there, and she herself having 
had continual sorrow and being of ser- 
vice or profit to no one. She had 
long expected what had now hap- 
pened, and had only been waiting for it 
from day to day for eighteen years. 
Unworthy as she considered herself she 
was, by the grace of God, a queen, a 
born and anointed queen, a near rela- 
tive of the Queen of England, grand- 
daughter of King Henry VII., and she 
had enjoved the honor of being Queen 
of France. But in all her life she had 



experienced nothing but evil, and she 
was very happy that it had pleased 
God to i^emove her from so many ills 
and afflictions, very ready and content to 
die and shed her blood in the cause of 
Almighty God her Saviour and Creator 
and of the Catholic Church, and for 
the maintenance of the law of this 
country. For such maintenance she 
protested that she had alwajs done her 
vitmost, loving the Qiieen, her good 
sister, and the Island as dearly as she 
did herself ; as she had often shown by 
offering to take such measures that 
everything would turn out well, . . . 
in which endeavor she had always 
been rebuffed and repulsed and held 
prisoner without having merited it ; 
having come of her ovv'n free will to 
this country and trusting in the prom- 
ise of the Qiieen of England, with 
whom she could have come to an 
agreement and taken measures that 
would have been mutually satisfactory 
had she only one single time been 
allowed to speak to her. Finally after 
many words her Majesty protested, and 
swore on the Bible that she had upon 
her person, or at least on the Catholic 
new Testament that she had in English, 
that she had nev'er attempted nor sought 
the life of the Qiieen nor of any other 
person whatever. She was told in 
reply that this Bible was a papistical 
version and that they could not take it 
into account. 

She was offered the dean of Peter- 
borough, one of the most learned men 
in Europe, who would give her conso- 
lation and talk to her about her salva- 
tion and about which was the tiue 
religion ; that she had always remained 
fast bound in what she had learned in 
her youth, and this chiefly because she 
had had no one to tell her the truth. 
It was time, now that she had so few 
hours to live, for her to think of her 
conscience and recognize the true 



12 



Elizabeth 



religion, and she should not hold any 
longer to these follies and abominations 
of papistry. Her Majesty answered 
. . . that she had heard and read the 
most learned men not only in the Cath- 
olic but also in the Protestant religion ; 
. . . that she had found no edification, 
but, having lived thus far in the true 
I'eligion it was no time to change ; now 
was the hour for remaining firm and 
constant as she intended doing. Rather 
than falter she would lose ten thousand 
lives if she had them, and, if possible, 
shed all her blood several times and 
endure all the crudest torments they 
could invent ; finally, in order to con- 
sole her and the better prepare her for 
death that they should let her see her 
priest, none other would she have. . . . 

Finally, being constantly urged to 
hear the minister, her Majesty asked 
when she would have to die. The 
reply was the next day, "about eight 
o'clock in the morning." . . . 

After supper her Majesty sent for 
all her servants, urged them to live in 
charity with each other, and, after a 
long harangue, took leave of them, 
granting them pardon for every- 
thing. . . . 

In the night, after having lain down 
with her clothes on for several hours, 
she put her last wishes into writmg as 
fully as she could in the time at her 
command, arranged about her furni- 
ture and about the journey of her ser- 
vants, and gave each one his or her 
money as she thought right. . . . 



4. Letter of Mary to her brother-in- 
law, Henry III. of France. Written at 
two o'clock on the morning of the 
execution. (Chantelauze, p. 397.) 
Translatio7r. 

My brother-in-law : Having come 
with God's permission, on account of 
my sins I suppose, to throw myself in- 
to the arms of this queen, my cousin, 



where I have passed more than twenty 
years constantly beset by annoyances, I 
have at last, by her and her Estates, been 
condemned to death. Having asked for 
my papers, which they had taken away, 
in order to make my will, I have received 
back nothing that was of any use. And 
they would grant me neither leave to 
make a new will nor my request that 
after my de:ith my body might be trans- 
ported to your kingdom, where I have 
had the honor of being queen, your 
sister and former ally. To-day, after 
dinner, they have pronounced to me my 
sentence without longer respite : that to- 
morrow, at seven o'clock in the morn- 
ing, I should be executed like a criminal. 
I have had no time to draw up a full 
account of all that happened ; but, if it 
will please you to believe my physician 
(Bourgoing) and these other bereaved 
servitors of mine you will know what 
the truth is, and that, thanks to God, I 
scorn death and resolutely protest that I 
am suffering it free from all crime, even 
though I were their subject, which I 
never will be. The Catholic religion 
and the maintenance of the right that 
God has given me to this crown : these 
are the two points of my condemnation. 
And yet they will not permit me to say 
that it is for the Catholic religion I am 
dying, but aver it is for fear I shall 
change theirs. Consequently they have 
removed my almoner, whom, although 
he is in the house, I have not been 
allowed to have confess me or shrive 
me at my death ; but they have been 
very persistent in trying to make me 
receive the consolation and doctrine of 
their minister whom they have brought 
for the purpose. The bearer of this 
(Bourgoing) and his companions, who 
are mostly your subjects, will bear wit- 
ness how I comport myself in this my 
last act. It remains for me to suppli- 
cate you, as most Christian king, my 
brother-in-law, friend, ally and one who 



Elizabeth 



'3 



has so done me the honor of loving me 
and protesting that love, that on the 
occasion of this blow you will give 
proof in all these matters of your high- 
mindedness, by, on the one hand, through 
charity, relieving me of one weight up- 
on my conscience which I cannot throw 
off without you, namely, the recom- 
pensing of my bereaved servants and 
the continuing to them of their wages ; 
on the other, by causing prayers to be 
made to God for a queen who has been 
called most Christian, and who dies a 
Catholic and bereft of all her means. 
As to my son, I recommend him to you 
according to his merits, for I cannot 
answer for him ; but with regard to my 
servitors I beg it of you with locked 
hands. I make so bold as to send you 
two rare health stones, trusting that 
yours may be perfect and that your life 
may be long and happy. You will 
accept them as coming from your very- 
devoted sister-in-law, v^^ho dies bearing 
testimony of the sincerity of her heart 
towards you. I will draw up a memo- 
randum for you with regard to my 
servants, and in what concerns my soul 
you will be pleased to see to it that a 
part is paid out of what you owe me, 
and that in honor of Jesus Christ, to 
whom at my death to-morrow I shall 
pray for you, enough -will be left to 
establish yearly masses and to dispense 
the necessary alms. 

Wednesday, two hours past midnight. 
Your very affectionate, good sister, 

Mary. 

5. Letter of R. Wynkfield to Lord 
Burleigh. (In Dack : Trial, Execu- 
tion and Death of Mary Queen of Scots. 
Northampton, 1SS9, p. i ff. Spelling 
modernized and construction occasion- 
ally simplified.) 

Feb. Sth, 1586. (Counts the New 
Year as beginning March 35.) 

It being certified on the 6th of Feb- 
ruary last to the Queen of Scots by the 



Right Honorable Earl of Kent, the 
E.irl of Shrewesbury, and also by Sir 
Amyas Paulett and Sir Dru Drury, her 
governors, that she was to prepare her- 
self to die the eighth of February then 
next coming, she, seeming not to be in 
any terror, by aught that appeared 
from any outward gesture or behavior, 
of how they were planning that she 
should die, but rather with smiling 
cheer and pleasant countenance di- 
gested and accepted the said admoni- 
tion of preparing for Paradise. . . . 

The said Sth of February came and 
the time and place appointed for the 
execution as aforesaid of the Queen of 
Scots. She was of stature tall and 
body corpulent, round-shouldered, her 
face fat and broad, double-chinned and 
with hazel eyes, her borrowed hair au- 
burn. Her attire was this : on her 
head she had a dressing of lawn edged 
with bone lace, a pomander chain and 
an Agnus Dei about her neck, a cruci- 
fix in her hand, a pair of beads at her 
girdle with a golden cross at the end of 
them, a veil of lawn fastened to her 
cowl bowed out with wire and edged 
round about with bone lace. Her 
gown was of black satin, printed, with 
a train and long sleeves to the ground 
set with acorn buttons of jet trimmed 
with pearls, and short sleeves of black 
satin cut with a pair of sleeves of pur- 
ple velvet whole under them. Her 
kirtle was whole of fine figured black 
satin ; the upper bodice of her petti- 
coat unlaced in the back, of crimson 
velvet ; her shoes of Spanish leather 
with the rough side outward ; a pair of 
green silk garters, her stockings of 
pale-blue colored worsted, clocked 
with silver and edged on the tops with 
silver, and next her legs a pair of white 
Jersey hose. 

The Qiieen, thus apparelled, in a 
kind of joy, without any desire of de- 
ferring of matters or time, departed 



14 



Elizabeth 



her chamber and very willingly bended 
her steps towards the place of execu- 
tion, being gently carried out of her 
said chamber into an entry next out of 
the said great hall by two of Sir A. 
Paulett his chiefest gentlemen. Mr. 
Andrews, the high sheriff, went before 
her. In the entry the honorable Earl 
of Kent and the Earl of Shrewesbury, 
commissioners appointed by her Ma- 
jesty for the said execution, together 
with the two governors of her person. 
Sir A. Paulett and Sir Dru Drury and 
divers knights and gentlemen of good 
account did meet her, where one of the 
said Queen's servants, named Melville, 
kneeling on his knees to the said 
Queen, his mistress, \vringing his 
hands and shedding of many tears, 
used then and there these words unto 
her, saying : " Madame, unhappy me! 
What man on earth was ever before 
the messenger of such important sor- 
row and heaviness as I shall be when I 
shall report that my good and gracious 
Qiieen and mistress is beheaded in Eng- 
land ! " This said, tears prevented 
him of further speaking; whereupon 
the said Qiieen, pouring out of her 
dying tears, thus answered him : " My 
good friend, cease to lament, for thou 
hast cause rather to joy than to mourn ; 
for now shalt thou see Mary Stuart's 
troubles receive their long-expected 
end and determination: for (said she), 
good servant, all the world is but van- 
ity and subject still to more sorrow 
than a whole ocean of tears can be- 
wail. But I pray (she said) thee 
carry this message from me, that I 
died a true woman to my religion and 
like a true woman of Scotland and 
France; but God forgive them (said 
she) that have long desired my end and 
thirsted for my blood as the Hart doth 
the water-brooks." . . . 

After this the said Qiieen, being sup- 
ported by Sir A. Paulett and two gen- 



tlemen as aforesaid, Melville carrying 
up her train, being accompanied by the 
Earl of Kent and gentlemen and the 
Sheriff going before her as aforesaid, 
passed out of the entry into a hall 
within the said Castle of Fotheringay 
before mentioned, with a countenance 
unappalled then and there made for her 
death, stepped up to the scaffold in the 
said hall, being two foot high and 
twelve broad, with rails round about it 
hanged and covered with black. Then 
having the stool brought her she sat 
down, and on the right hand of her 
stood the Earl of Kent and the Earl of 
Shrewesbur}-, on the left hand Mr. An- 
drews the Sheriff ; and opposite against 
her stood the two executioners, and 
round about the rails of the Scaffold 
stood Knights, gents and others ; then 
silence being made the Queen Maj- 
esty's commission for the execution 
was read. During the reading of which 
said commission the said Queen was 
very silent, listening to it with so care- 
less a regard as though it had not con- 
cerned her at all. Nay, rather, with 
so merry and cheerful a countenance as 
if it had been a pardon from her Maj- 
esty for her life. . . . 

Then the two executioners kneeled 
down unto her and desired her to for- 
give them her death. She answered, 
" I forgive you with all my heart, for I 
hope that this death shall give me an 
end to all my troubles." Then they, 
with her two women, helping her up 
began to disrobe her ; and then she laid 
the crucifix upon the stool and one of 
the executioners took from her neck the 
Agmis Dei. And then she began to 
lay hold on it, saying she would give it 
to some of her women, and withal told 
the executioner he should have money 
for it. Then she suffered him, with 
her two women, to take off her chain 
of pomander beads and all her other 
apparel, and that with a kind of glad- 



Elizabeth 



I 



ness ; and smiling she began to make 
herself unready, putting on a pair of 
sleeves with her own hands which the 
executioner rudely had before put off, 
and that with such speed as if she had 
longed to be gone out of the world. 
During all these actions of disrobing of 
the said Qiieen she never altered her 
countenance, but, smiling as it ■were, 
said she never had such grooms before 
to make her unready, nor ever did put 
off her clothes before such a company. 
At length, she being untired of such of 
her attire and apparel as was conven- 
ient, saving her petticoat and kirtle, her 
two women, looking upon her, burst 
out into a very great and pitiful weep- 
ing, crying and lamenting ; and when 
their crying and shrieking began to de- 
cline they crossed themselves and prayed 
in Latin. 

Then the said Queen, turning her- 
self unto them and seeing them in such 
a lamentable and mournful plight, em- 
braced them and said these words in 
French, crossing them and kissing 
them, "You ought rather to pray for 
me and not to be so mournful, for (said 
she) this day I trust shall end your 
mistress's troubles." Then with a 
smiling countenance she turned herself 
to her men-servants, Melville and the 
rest standing upon a bench near unto 
the scaffold, who were for some time 
crying out aloud and continually cross- 
ing themselves and praying in Latin, — 
and the said Queen turned unto them 
and did herself likewise cross them and 
bid them farewell, and prayed them 
to pray for her even unto the last hour. 
This done, one of her women having 
a Corpus Christ! cloth lapped it up 
three-cornered ways, and kissed it and 
put it over the face of her Qiieen and 
mistress and pinned it fast upon the 
crown of her head. Then the two 
women mournfully departed from her. 
And then the said Qiieen kneeled down ; 



at which time, very resolute and with- 
out any token of fear of death, she 
spake aloud this psalm in Latin, " In 
te Domine confido ne confundar in 
eternum." Then groping for the 
block she laid down her head, putting 
her chain upon the block with both her 
hands, which holding there still they 
had been cut off had they not been es- 
pied. Then she laid herself upon the 
block most quietly and stretched out 
her arms and legs and cried out, " In 
manus tuas Domini," three or four 
times. And at the last, while one of 
the executioners held her slightly with 
one of his hands, the other gave two 
strokes with an axe before he did cut 
off her head and yet left a little gristle 
behind ; at which time she made very 
small noise and stirred not any part of 
herself from the place where she lay. 
Then the executioner that cut off her 
head lifted it up and bade God save the 
Qiieen. Then her dressing of lawn fell 
from her head, which appeared as gray 
as if she had been 3^ score years old, 
pawled [cut] very short, her face being 
in a moment so much altered from the 
form which she had when she was 
alive as few could remeinber her by 
her dead face. Her lips stirred up and 
down almost a quarter of an hour after 
her head was cut off. Then said Mr. 
Dean, " So perish all the Qiieen's ene- 
mies ; " afterwards the Earl of Kent 
came to the dead body, and standing 
over it with a loud voice said likewise, 
" Such an end happen to the Qiieen and 
the gospel's enemies." Then one of 
the executioners, plucking off her gar- 
ters, espied her little dog which was 
crept under her clothes, which would 
not be gotten forth but with force, and 
afterwards would not depart from the 
dead corpse but came and hi)- between 
her head and shoulders, — a thing dili- 
gently noted. The same dog, being 
imbrued in her blood, was carried away 



i6 



Elizabeth 



and washed, as all things else were that 
had any blood unless those things that 
were burned. The executioners were 
sent away with money for their fees, 
not having anything that belonged unto 
her. Afterwards everyone was com- 
manded forth of the hall saving the 
sheriff and his men, who carried her 
up into a great chamber made ready 
for the surgeons to embalm her, and 
was embalmed. 

And thus I hope, my very good Lord 
(Burleigh), I have certified unto your 
Honor of all such actions, matters and 
circumstances as did proceed from her 
or any others at her death. Wherein I 
dare promise unto your good Lord : if 
not in some better or worse words than 
were spoken I have somewhat mis- 
taken, in matters I have not any whit 
offended. I will not so justify my duty 
herein but that many things might well 
have been omitted as not worthy not- 
ing; yet because it is your Lordship's 
fault to desire to know all and so I have 
certified it, it is an offence pardonable. 
So resting at your Honor's farther 
commands, I take my leave this i ith 
of February, 1586(7). 

Your Honor's in all humble service 
to command, 

R. Wynkfield. 



6. Letter of Qiieen Elizabeth to King 
James the Sixth, disavowing her having 
caused the execution of the Queen of 
Scots. (In Ellis, Original Letters, 
First Series; Vol. IIL p. 32.) Mod- 
ernized spelling. 

Feb. 14, 15S6. 
My dear Brother, I would you knew 
(though not felt) the extreme dolor 
that overwhelms my mind, for that 
miserable accident which (far contrary 
to my meaning) hath befallen. I have 
now sent this kinsman of mine whom, 
ere now, it hath pleased you to favor, 
to instruct vou trulv of that which is 



too irksome for my pen to tell you. I 
beseech you that as God and many 
more know how innocent I am in this 
case : so you will believe me, that if I 
had bid (directed) ought I would have 
bided by it. I am not so base mindecl 
that fear of any living creature or prince 
should make me afraid to do that were 
just, or done, to deny the same. I am 
not of so base a lineage, nor carry so 
vile a mind. But, as not to disguise 
fits not a king, so will I never dissemble 
my actions, but cause them show even 
as I meant them. Thus assuring your- 
self of me, that as I know this was 
deserved, yet if I had ineant it I would 
never lay it on other shoulders ; no 
more will I not damnify my self, that 
thought it not. 

The circumstance it may please you 
to have of this bearer. And for your 
part, think you have not in the world 
a more loving kinswoman, nor a more 
dear friend than inyself ; nor any that 
will watch more carefully to preserve 
you and your estate. And who shall 
otherwise persuade you, judge them 
more partial to others than you. And 
thus in haste I leave to trouble you : 
beseeching God to send you a long 
reign. The 14th of Feb., 15 86. 

Your most assured loving sister and 
cousin, Elizab. R. 



7. Extract from the Memoirs of 
Robert Gary [Edinburgh, 1808], the 
Bearer of the above Letter. 

The next jear (which was 15S6) was 
the Queen of Scotb' beheading, ... at 
which time (few or none in the court 
being willing to undertake that journey) 
her Majesty sent me to the King of 
Scots, to make known her innocence 
of her sister's death, with letters 'of 
credence from herself to assure all that 
I should affirm. 

I was waylaid in Scotland, if I had 
gone in, to have been mvu'dered ; but 



Elizabeth 



17 



the king's majesty, knowing the dis- 
position of his people [which he evi- 
dently did not share! Ed.] and the 
fury they were in, sent to me to Ber- 
wick, to let me know that no power of 
his could warrant my life at that time ; 
therefore, to prevent further mischief, 
he would send me no convoy, but 
would send two of his counsel to the 
bound road to receive my letters, or 
what other message I had to deliver. 
. . . Sir George Hume and the master 
of Melven met me at the bound road, 
where I delivered my message in 
writing, and my letters from the Queen 
to the King. . . . 



S. Letter of James to Elizabeth (in 
Camden Soc. publication). 

March, 15S6-7. 
Madam and dearest sister, Whereas 
by your letter and bearer, Robert Cary, 
your servant and ambassador, you 
purge yourself of yon unliappy fact. 
As, on the one part, considering your 
rank and sex, consanguinity and long- 
professed goodwill to the defunct, to- 
gether with your many and solemn 
attestations of your innocency, I dare 
not wrong you so far as not to judge 
honorably of your unspotted part there- 
in ; so, on the other side, I wish that 
your honorable behaviour in all times 
hereafter may fully persuade the whole 
world of the same. And, as for my 
part, I look that you will give me at 
this time such a full satisfaction [he 
later accepted a pension. Ed.] as 
shall be a means to strengthen and 
unite this isle. . . . 



9. Letter of Elizabeth to James. 

May, 15SS. 
My pen, my dear brother, hath re- 
mained so long dry as [that] I suppose 
it hardly would have taken ink again, 
but, mollified by the good justice that 



you have been pleased to execute, to- 
gether with the large assurance that your 
words have given to some of my min- 
isters : Wliich all doth make me ready 
to drink most xviUingly a large 
draught of the river of Letlie, never 
minding to think of unkindness. . . . 
God the searcher of all hearts ever so 
have misericord of my soul as my in- 
nocency in that matter deserveth, and 
no otherwise ; which invocation were 
too dangerous for a guilty conscience. 
. . . You may the more soundly trust 
my vows, for never yet were they 
stained, neither will I make you the first 
on whom I shall bestow untruth, which 
God will not suffer me live unto. 

10. Extract from Wilson : Life and 
Reign of James I. (In Kenneth, Vol. 
IL p. 6S9.) 

And now the King [James has be- 
come King of England] casts his 
thoughts towards Petei-borough, where 
his mother lay, whom he caused to be 
translated to a magnificent tomb at 
Westminster, and (somewhat suitable 
to her mind when she was living) she 
had a translucent passage in the night 
through the city of London by multi- 
tudes of torches ; the tapers placed by 
the tomb and the altar in the cathedral 
smoking with them like an offertory ; 
with all the ceremonies and voices their 
choirs and copes could express ; at- 
tended by many prelates and nobles who 
paid this last tribute to her memory. 
This was accounted a piaculous action 
of the King's by many; though some 
have not stuck to say that, as Qiieen 
Elizabeth was willing to be rid of the 
Qiieen of Scots, yet would not have 
it of her action ; and being it could not 
be done without her command, when it 
was done she renounced her own act. 
So, though the King was angry when 
he heard his mother was taken away by 



i8 



Elizabeth 



a violent death, recalling his ambassa 
dor, threatening war and making a 
great noise, which was after calmed 
and closed up with a large pension 
from the Queen, yet he might well 
enough be pleased that such a spirit 
was laid as might have conjured up 
three kingdoms against him. For Pat- 



rick Grey, that the King sent to dis- 
suade ^iieen Elizabeth from taking 
away his mother'' s life, 'was the great- 
est instrti?nent to persuade her to it, 
distilling always into her this sen- 
tence, " Mortiia non mordet" (when 
she is dead she cannot bite). 



GROUP III. 

THE SPANISH ARMADA. 

(From State Papers, Navy Records Society, i8g4.) 



I. Letter o'^ Admiral Howard to 
Secretary Walsyngham. 

March 9th, 15S7-S. 
Sir : As I had made up my other 
letter, Captain Frobisher doth advertise 
me that he spake with two ships that 
came presently from Lisbon, who de- 
clared unto him that for certainty the 
King of Spain's fleet doth part from 
Lisbon unto the Groyne the 15th of 
this month by their account. Sir, there 
is none that comes from Spain but 
brings this advertisement ; and if it be 
true, I am afraid it will not be helped 
when the time serveth. Surely this 
charge that her Majesty is at is either 
too much or too little ; and the stay 
that is made of Sir Francis Drake going 
out I am afraid will breed great peril. 



2. Letter of Sir Francis Drake to 
the Council. 

March 30th. 

. . . My very good Lords, next 
under God's mighty protection the ad- 
vantage and gain of time and place 
will be the only and chief means for 
our good ; wherein I most humbly be- 
seech your good Lordships to persevere 
as vou have began, for that with fifty 
sail of shipping we shall do more good 



upon their own coast, than a great inany 
more will do here at home ; and the 
sooner we are gone, the better we shall 
be able to impeach them. 

There is come home, since the send- 
ing away of my last messenger, one 
bark whom I sent out as an espial, who 
confirmeth those intelligences whereof 
I have advertised your Lordships by 
him ; and that divers of those Biscayans 
are abroad upon that coast wearing 
English flags, whereof there are made 
in Lisbon three hundred with the red 
cross, which is a great presumption, 
pi-oceeding of the haughtiness and pride 
of the Spaniard, and not to be tolerated 
by any true, natural English heart. 



3. Letter of Drake to the Queen. 
April 28th. 

Most gracious Sovereign : Sithence 
my last despatch of Mr. Stallenge to 
the court, I have three sundry ways 
received advertisements that the enemy 
continueth his preparations very might- 
ily. The first report cometh by a man 
of Dartmouth who very lately came 
from St. Malos, and saith that he heard 
it reported there by divers Frenchmen 
returned home from Spain overland, 



Elizabeth 



19 



that fifteen ships of that town, and as 
many at least of Rosco, besides many 
more of divers nations, are stayed 
there ; affirming that their fleet is in 
number between four and five hundred 
sail, ready furnished with seventy or 
eight\' thousand soldiers and mariners ; 
and that for their better encouragement 
the wages of all the companies is ad- 
vanced. . . . 



4. Letters of Howard to Walsynham. 

June 14th. 

. . . The opinion of Sir Francis 
Drake, Mr. Hawkyns, Mr. Frobiser 
and others that be men of greatest judg- 
ment and experience, as also iny own 
concurring with them in the same, is 
that the surest way to meet with the 
Spanish fleet is upon their own coast, 
or in any harbour of their own, and 
there to defeat them. . . . 

Sir, we have endured these three 
days, Wednesday, Thtn^sda}' and 
Friday, an extreme continual storm. 
Myself, and four or five of the greatest 
ships, have ridden it out in the Sound, 
because we had no room in Catwater, 
for the lesser ships that were there ; 
nor betwixt the shore and the Island, 
because Sir Francis Drake, with four 
or five other ships did ride there. My- 
self and my company in these ships do 
continually tarry and lie aboard in all 
the storm, where v/e may compare that 
•\ve have danced as lustily as the gal- 
lantest dancers in the Court. Her 
Majesty may be sure, what false and 
villainous reports soever have been made 
of them, she hath the strongest ships 
that any prince in Christendom hath. 
. . . Sir, I inust not omit to let you 
know how lovingly and kindly Sir 
Francis Drake beareth himself ; and 
also how dutifully to her Majesty's ser- 
vice and unto me, being in the place 
I am in ; which I prav you he may 



receive thanks for, by some private 
letter from you. . . . 

Howard to Walsynghajii . 

July 6th. 

. . . Sir, I sent a fine Spanish cara- 
vel an eight days agone to the Groyne 
to learn intelligence, such a one as 
would not have been mistrusted ; but 
when she was fifty leagues away, this 
southerly wind forced her back again 
unto us. Therefore I pray you, if you 
hear or understand of any news or ad- 
vertisements by land, that I may hear 
of them from you with expedition. 

I have divided myself here into three 
parts, and yet we lie within sight one 
of another, so as, if any of us do dis- 
cover the Spanish fleet, we give notice 
thereof presently the one to the other, 
and thereupon repair and assemble to- 
gether. I myself do lie in the middle 
of the Channel, with the greatest force. 
Sir Francis Drake hath twenty ships 
and four or five pinnaces, which lie 
toward Ushant ; and Mr. Hawkyns, 
with as many more, lieth towards Scilly. 
Thus are we fain to do, else with this 
wind they might pass by and we never 
the wiser. . . . But for my own part 
I cannot persuade myself but that their 
intent is for Ireland. Where there are 
so many doubts we must proceed by the 
likelier ways, and leave, unto God to 
direct for the best. 

Ho~va?-d to Walsviiffhani. 

July 13th. 
... I am very sorry to perceive by 
your letter that her Majesty doth think 
that we have not sufficiently sought to 
understand some certainty of the Span- 
ish fleet. Sir, we are here to small 
purpose for this great service, if that 
hath not been thought of. Both before 
my coming, by Sir Francis Drake, and 
since my coming there hath been no 
day but there hath been pinnaces, 
.Spanish caravels, flyboats, and of all 



20 



Elizabeth 



sorts, sent out to discover there. . . . 
We have at this time four pinnaces on 
the coast of Spain. . . . God in his 
mercy keep us from sickness, for we 
fear that more than any hurt that the 
Spaniards will do this fleet, if the 
advertisements be true. . . . 

Hoivard to Walsyngham. 

July 3 1st. 

Sir: I will not trouble you with any 
long letter ; we are at this present 
otherwise occupied than with writing. 
Upon Friday, at Plymouth, I received 
intelligence that there were a great 
number of ships descried off of the 
Lizard, whereupon, although the wind 
was very scant, we first warped out of 
harbour that night, and upon Saturday 
turned out very hardly, the wind being 
at southwest ; and about three of the 
clock in the afternoon descried the 
Spanish fleet, and did what we could 
to work for the wind, which by this 
morning we had recovered, descrying 
their fleet to consist of I30 sail, whereof 
there are 4 galeasses and many ships 
of great burden. 

At nine of the clock we gave them 
fight, which continued until one. In 
this fight we made some of them to 
bear room to stop their leaks ; notwith- 
standing we durst not adventure to put 
in among them, their fleet being so 
strong. But there shall be nothing 
either neglected or unhazarded that may 
work their overthrow. 

Sir, the captains in her Majesty's 
ships have behaved themselves most 
bravely and like men hitherto, and I 
doubt not will continue, to their great 
commendation. And so, recommend- 
ing our good success to your godly 
prayers, I bid you heartily farewell. 
From aboard the Ark, thwart of Ply- 
mouth, the 3ist of July, 15SS. 

Your very loving friend, 

C. Howard. 



Sir, the southerly wind that brought 
us back from the coast of Spain brought 
them out. God blessed us with turn- 
ing us back. Sir, for the love of God 
and our country, let us have with some 
speed some great shot sent us of all 
bigness ; for this service will continue 
long ; and some powder with it. 



5. Letter of Drake to Walsyngham. 

July 39th. 

Right Honourable : This bearer came 
aboard the ship I was in in a wonder- 
ful good time, and brought with him 
as good knowledge as we could wish. 
His carefulness therein is worthy 
recompense, for that God hath given 
us so good a day in forcing the enemy 
so far to leeward, as I hope in God the 
Prince of Parma and the Duke of 
Sidonia shall not shake hands this few 
days ; and whensoever they shall meet, 
I believe neither of them will greatly 
rejoice of this day's service. The 
town of Calais hath seen some part 
thereof, whose Mayor her Majesty is 
beholden unto. Business commands 
me to end. God bless her Majesty, 
our gracious Sovereign, and give us all 
grace to live in his fear. I assure your 
Honour this day's service hath much 
appalled the enemy, and no doubt but 
encouraged our arm)'. From aboard 
her Majesty's good ship the Revenge, 
this 39th of July, 15SS. 

Your Honour's most ready to be 
commanded, 

Fra. Drake. 

There must be great care taken to 
send us munition and victual witherso- 
ever the enemy goeth. Yours, 

Fra. Drake. 



6. Letter of Richard Tomson to 
Walsyngham. 

July 30th. 

Since our first meeting of our ene- 
mies, which was on Sunday, the 3ist 



Elizabeth 



21 



of this present, we have had four en- 
counters, such as, the Lord be praised, 
hath not a little daunted the minds of 
our enemies, but much impaired their 
great and unexpected forces, and to 
very little or no detriment of our Eng- 
lish navy. At our first meeting of 
them, which was within two miles of 
Looe in Cornwall, they were 136 sail 
of ships and pinnaces, whereof 90 were 
very great ships, and the rest of smaller 
account; and at that time our English 
navy was not above 67 sail. By God's 
goodness and the good working of our 
commanders, we got the wind of them, 
■which is a very great advantage and a 
special safety for the weaker part ; and 
ever since God hath so blessed us that 
we have kept the same, to the great 
annoyance of our enemies ; and by that 
means we have so daily pursued them 
at the heels, that they never had leisure 
to stop in any place alongst our Eng- 
lish coast until they came within two 
miles of Calais, where in the evening, 
very politely, they came all upon a 
sudden to an anchor, being Saturday 
the 27th day, purposing that our ships 
with the flood should be driven to lee- 
ward of them ; but in happy time it 
was soon espied, and prevented by 
bringing our fleet to an anchor also in 
the wind of them. 

Tlie same night they sent ashore to 
Calais and forthwith to the Duke of 
Parma, advertising of their being there ; 
and one received answer that he with 
his forces would be in readiness upon 
Tuesday following, and come and join 
with them, with intent to come over 
and land their forces in England, about 
Margate in Vrent, as since I have 
thoroughly learnt of the Spaniards that 
were taken in the chief galleass that 
the king had, hard under the jetty head 
at Calais. It hath appeared by many 
arguments that the Spaniards were not 
evil welcome to Monsieur Gourdan and 



the rest of his government, by permit- 
ting their messengers to go so speedily 
between the Duke and that place, as 
also by suffering the boats to go to and 
from the shore so usually, all Sunday 
the 2Sth of July, as they did ; and 
most of all, by sending his kinsman 
and lieutenant aboard the Duke of Me- 
dina with a great present ; whereof no 
semblance was made at all unto our 
Lord Admiral. 

It pleased my Lord Admiral to ap- ( 
point certain small ships to be fired 

on Sunday about 1 3 of the clock at 

-' ( 

night, and let drive with the flood 

amongst the Spaniards ; which prac- I 
tice, God be thanked, hath since turned 1 
to our great good ; for it caused the , 
Spaniards to let slip their anchors and . 
cables, and confusedly to drive one 
upon another ; whereby they were not 
only put from their roadstead and place 
where they meant to attend the comin.g 
of the Duke of Parma, but did much 
hui't one to another of them.selves ; and 
are now, by the earnest pursuit of our 
Englishmen, very much weakened and 
dispersed, the Lord be praised, so that 
of the 1 34 sail that they were in Calais 
Road, we cannot now find by any 
account above S6 ships and pinnaces ; 
so that I cannot conjecture but by the 
furious assault that my Lord and his 
associates gave them early on Monday 
morning, and did continue in vehement 
manner 8 hours, hath laid many of 
them in the bottom of the sea, or else 
[caused them to] run with the coast of 
Flanders to save their lives, though im- 
possible to save their great ships, by 
reason of their evil harbours. 

At the break of day upon Monday 
morning, my Lord and all the fleet set- 
ting sail after our enemies, we espied 
riding within shot of the town of 
Calais the greatest of the king's galle- 
asses, tlie rest of the Spanish fleet 
being two leagues to leeward of her. 



22 



Elizabeth 



Aly Lord Admiral began to go toward 
the galleass with his ship, the Ark, but 
finding the water to be shallow, other 
ships of less draught bare in with her 
and shot at her, whereupon she let slip 
and run the galleass aground hard be- 
fore the town. 

In our ship, which was the Margaret 
and John of London, we approached 
so near that we came on ground also ; 
but afterwards came safely off again 
with the flood, being damaged by noth- 
ing but by the town of Calais, who, off 
the bulwarks, shot very much at us, 
and shot our ship twice through. 
And the like powder and shot did 
Monsieur Gourdan bestow upon sun- 
dry of our countrymen, and make us 
relinquish the galleass, which other- 
wise we had brought away, being mas- 
ters of her above two hours, and gotten 
by hard assault, to the great credit of 
our country, if Monsieur Gourdan 
herein had not shown his affection to 
the Spaniards to be greater than our 
nation, or seemed by force to wrest 
from us that vi^hich we had gotten with 
bloody heads. 

My Lord Admiral, seeing he could 
not approach the galleass v/ith his 
ship, sent off his long boat unto her 
with 50 or 60 men, amongst whom 
were many gentlemen as valiant in 
courage as gentle in birth, as they well 
showed. The like did our ship send 
off her pinnace, with certain musket- 
eers, amongst whom myself went. 
These two boats came hard under the 
galleass sides, being aground, where 
we continued a pretty skirmish with 
our small shot against theirs, they being 
ensconced within their ship and very 
high over us, we in our open pinnaces 
and far under them, having nothing to 
shroud and cover us ; they being 300 
soldiers, besides 450 slaves, and we 
not, at the instant, 100 persons. With- 
in one half hour it pleased God, by 



killing the captain with a musket shot,, 
to give us victory above all hope or ex- 
pectation ; for the soldiers leaped over- 
board by heaps on the other side, and 
fled with the shore, swimming and 
wading. Some escaped with being 
wet ; some, and that very many, were 
drowned. The captain of her was 
called Don Hugo de Moncada, son to 
the viceroy of Valencia. He being 
slain, and the most part of their sol- 
diers fled, some few soldiers remaining 
in her, seeing our English boats under 
her sides and more of ours coming 
rowing towards her, some with 10 and 
some with 8 men in them, for all the 
smallest shipping were the nearest the 
shore, put up two handkerchiefs upon 
two rapiers, signifying that they desired 
truce. Hereupon we entered, with 
much difficulty, by reason of her height 
over us, and possessed us of her, by 
the space of an hour and half as I 
judge ; each man seeking his benefit of 
pillage until the flood came, that ■we 
might haul her off the ground and 
bring her away. 

It may please your Honour to under- 
stand that during our fight to get her, 
the men of Calais stood in multitudes 
upon the shore hard by us and behold- 
ing all things, showing themselves at 
that instant indifferent lookers-on ; but 
so soon as they saw us possessed of so 
princely a vessel, the very glory and 
stay of the Spanish army, a thing of 
very great value and strength, as was 
well known to them of Calais, for that 
they had been on board twice or thrice 
the day before ; I say. Monsieur Gour- 
dan, seeing us thus possessed, sent 
aboard to us that were in her, in which 
boat came his kinsman and another 
captain, desiring to parle with us. 
None being then in place that either 
understood or spake French but myself, 
I asked them from whom they came. 
They answered, from Monsieur Gour- 



Elizabeth, 



23 



dan, the Governor of Calais. I de- 
manded to know what his pleasure was. 
They answered that he had stood and 
beheld our fight and rejoiced of our 
victory, saying that for our prowess and 
manhood showed therein we had well 
deserved the spoil and pillage of the 
galleass, as a thing due unto us by 
desert, and that he willingly consented 
that we should have the pillage of her ; 
further requiring and commanding us 
not to offer to carry away either the 
ship or ordnance, for that she was on 
ground under the commandment of his 
castles and town, and therefore did of 
right appertain unto him. I answered 
unto them that, for our parts, we 
thanked Monsieur Gourdan for grant- 
ing the pillage to the mariners and 
soldiers that had fought for the same ; 
acknowledging that without his leave 
and good will we could not carry away 
anything of that we had gotten, con- 
sidering it lay on ground hard under his 
bulwarks ; and that as concerning the 
ship and ordnance, we prayed it would 
please him to send a pinnace aboard my 
Lord Admiral, who was here in person 
hard by, from whom he should have an 
honourable and friendly answer which 
we all are to obey and give place unto. 
With this answer, to my seeming they 
departed well satisfied ; but since I have 
understood that some of our rude men, 
who make no account of friend or foe, 
fell to spoiling the Frenchinen, taking 
away their rings and jewels as from 
enemies; whereupon going ashore and 
complaining, all the bulwarks and ports 
were bent against us, and shot so 
vehemently that we received sundry 
shot very dangerously through us. If 
this have not incensed Monsieur Gour- 
dan, I suppose that he will easily, upon 
request made, either surrender all or 
the better part of all things unto her 
Majesty ; for the ship cannot be so little 
worth, with her ordnance, as eighty 



thousand crowns ; having in her four 
whole cannons, S demi-cannons, I3 
culverins and demi-culverins, 16 sakers 
and minions, all of brass, 200 barrels of 
powder, and of all other things great 
provision and plenty ; but very little or 
no treasure that I can learn to be in her. 
This is the substance and very truth 
of all that passed in this action. Being 
thus departed from the galleasses, my 
Lord with all the fleet pursued the 
enemy, with all violent pursuit that our 
ordnance and small shot could yield ; 
little to our hurt, the Lord be praised, 
but greatly to the detriment of the 
enemy, as the bearer hereof, Mr. John 
Watts of London, can amply inform 
your Honour ; for he was present at 
the doing of most of these things 
happened within these two days, not 
without danger enough of his person 
both of cannon and musket shot, where- 
of his apparel beareth some tokens, 
although it pleased God to spare his life. 
At this instant we are as far to the east- 
ward as the Isle of Walcheren, whei'ein 
Flushing doth stand, and about 13 
leagues off the shore ; and the wind 
hanging westerly, we drive our enemies 
apace to the eastward, much marveling, 
if the wind continue, in what port they 
will direct them.selves. Some imagine 
the River of Hamburg, which is a bad 
place for the receipt of ships of such 
charge ; others suppose, because they 
have yet provision of victuals for three 
months, they will about Scotland, and 
so for Spain. I trust her Majesty may, 
by God's help, little fear any invasion 
by these ships ; their power being, by 
battle, mortalit)', and other accidents, so 
decayed, and those that are left alive so 
weak and hurtless, that they could be 
well content to lose all charges to be at 
home, both rich and poor. There is 
want of powder, shot and victual, 
amongst us, which causeth that we can- 
not so daily assault them as we would. 



24 



Elizabeth 



God grant the want may in time be 
supplied, tliat so necessary a service be 
not neglected thereby. Thus I take my 
humble leave of your Honour, to whom 
Almighty God send all continuance of 
health and increase of happiness. 
Subscribed, 

Richard Tomson. 



make. [The fires did, however, come 
from their own vessels. — Ed.] . . . 



7. Letter of Sir William Wynter to 
Walsyngham. 

August I . 

. . . Upon Sunday, being the 38th 
day, my Lord [Howard] put out his 
flag of council early in the morning, 
the armies both riding still ; and after 
the assembly of the council it was con- 
cluded that the practice for the firing 
of ships should be put in execution the 
night following, and Sir Henry Palmer 
was assigned to bear over presently in 
a pinnace for Dover, to bring away 
such vessels as were fit to be fired, and 
materials apt to take fire. But because 
it was seen, after his going, he could 
not return that night, and occasion 
would not be over slipped, it was 
thought meet that we should help our- 
selves with such shipping as we had 
there to serve our turn. So that, about 
twelve of the clock that night, six ships 
were brought and prepared [signalled] 
with a saker shot, and going in a front, 
having the wind and tide with them, 
and their ordnance being charged, 
were fired [z. e., set fire to] ; and the 
men that were the executors, so soon as 
the fire was made they did abandon the 
ships, and entered into five boats that 
were appointed for the saving of them. 
This matter did put such terror among 
the Spanish army that they were fain 
to let slip their cables and anchors ; 
and did work, as it did appear, great 
mischief among them by reason of the 
suddenness of it. We might perceive 
that there were two great fires more than 
ours, and far greater and huger than 
any of our vessels that we fired co^idd 



8. Letter of Howard to Lord Burleigh. 
August 10. 

My good Lord : — Sickness and mor- 
tality begins wonderfully to grow 
among us; and it is a most pitiful sight 
to see, here at Margate, how the men, 
having no place to receive them into 
here, die in the streets. I am driven 
myself, of force, to come a-land, to see 
them bestowed in some lodging ; and 
the best I can get is barns and such out- 
houses ; and the relief is small that I can 
provide for them here. It would grieve 
any man's heart to see them that have 
served so valiantly to die so miserably. 

The Elizabeth Jonas, which hath 
done as well as ever any ship did in 
any service, hath had a great infection 
in her from the beginning, so as of the 
500 men which she carried out, by the 
time we had been in Plj'mouth three 
weeks or a month there were dead of 
them 200 and above ; so as I was 
driven to set all the rest of her men 
ashore, to take out her ballast, and to 
make fires in her of wet broom, three 
or four days together ; and so hoped 
thereby to have cleansed her of her 
infection ; and thereupon got new men, 
very tall and able as ever I saw, and 
put them into her. Now the infection 
is broken out in greater extremity than 
ever it did before, and the men die 
and sicken faster than ever they did ; 
so as I am driven of force to send her 
to Chatham. We all think and judge 
that the infection remaineth in the 
pitch. Sir Roger Townshend, of all 
the men he brought out with him, hath 
but one left alive. . . . 



9. Letter of Sir R. Bingham, Gov- 
ernor of Connaught, to the Qiieen. 

Dec. 3rd, 15SS. 
Most g-racious and dread Sover- 



Elizabeth 



25 



eign : — My long silence in not ac- 
quainting your Majesty with the 
occurrents of this your Highness' s 
province hath proceeded rather through 
fear to offend your Majesty by pressing 
too far into your Highness' s presence 
with my rude and uncomely letters. 
. . . Albeit ... I have adventured 
... to present your Highness now 
with these humble and few lines, as a 
thanksgiving to Almighty God for 
these his daily preservations of your 
sacred person, and the continual deliv- 
erance of us, your Majesty's subjects, 
from the cruel and bloody hands of 
your Highness' s enemies, and that 
lastly from the danger of the Spanish 
forces, defeated first by your Majesty's 
navy in the Narrow Seas, and sithence 
overthrown through the wonderful 
handiwork of Almighty God, by great 
and horrible shipwrecks upon the 
coasts of this realm, and most upon the 
parts and creeks of this province of 
Connaught, where it hath pleased your 
Majesty to appoint my service undei' 
your Highness' s Lord Deputy. Their 
loss upon this province, first and last, 
and in several places, was twelve ships, 
which all we know of, and some two 
or three more supposed to be sunk to 
seaboard of the out isles ; the men of 
which ships did all perish in the sea, 
save the number of 1 100 or upward, 
which we put to the sword ; amongst 
whom there was divers gentlemen of 
quality and service, as captains, mas- 
ters of ships, lieutenants, ensign- 
bearers, other inferior officers and 
young gentlemen, to the number of 
some fiftj', whose names I have for the 
most part set down in a list, and have 
sent the same unto your Majesty ; 
which being spared from the sword till 
order might be had from the Lord Dep- 
uty how to proceed against them, I 
had special direction sent me to see 
them executed, as the rest were, only 



leserving alive one, Don Luis de Cor- 
dova, and a young gentleman, his 
nephew, till your Highness' s pleasure 
be known. Other gentlemen of 
special reckoning we had none, for the 
Count Paredes and Don Alonzo de 
Leyva, with other gentlemen, being 
thrown ashore in Erris, the remotest 
place in all this province, and their 
ship all to broken, did afterwards by 
chance embark themselves in another 
of their ships and departed to sea ; but 
being again driven back upon the 
northern coast in Ulster, and from 
thence putting to sea again, are sit- 
hence, as I hear say, cast away about 
the isles going for Scotland. My 
brother George had one Don Graveillo 
de Swasso and another gentleman, by 
license, and some five or six Dutch 
boys and young men, who coming 
after the fury and heat of justice was 
past, by entreaty I spared them, in 
respect they were pressed into the 
fleet against their wills, and did dis- 
pose them into several Englishmen's 
hands, upon good assurance that they 
should be forthcoming at all times. 
And thus, God be praised, was all the 
province quickly rid of those distressed 
enemies. . . . But the Lord Deputy 
. . . caused both these two Spaniards, 
which my brother had, to be executed, 
and the Dutchmen and boys which 
were spared before, reserving none but 
Don Luis and his nephew, whom I 
have here. I was glad in one respect 
that his Lordship should take his way 
through Connaught, for that thereby 
he might the better satisfy himself of 
what we had before performed here, 
and accordingly had written of. Other 
wrecks they had both in Munster and 
Ulster, which being out of my charge, 
I have not so good notice of . . , 
Your Highness' s most loyal 
and humble soldier, 

Ry. Bingham. 



26 



Elizabeth 



GROUP IV. 

THE END OF THE REIGN OF qUEEN ELIZABETH. 



I. Extract from Bishop Goodman's 
" Court of James I." (London, 1S39.) 
Vol. I. p. 163. 

... In the year 'SS, I did then live 
at the upper end of the strand near St. 
Clement's Church, when suddenly 
there came a report unto us (it was in 
December, much about five of the 
clock at night, very dark) that the 
Queen was gone to council., and if you 
will see the Qiieen you must come 
quickly. Then we all ran ; when the 
Court gates were set open, and no man 
did hinder us from coming in. There 
we came where there was a far greater 
company than was usually at Lenten 
Sermons; and when we had staid 
there an hour and that the yard was 
full, there being a number of torches, 
the Qiieen came out in great state. 
Then we cried: "God save your ma- 
jesty ! God save your majesty ! " Then 
the Qiieen turned unto us and said, 
" God bless you all, my good people ! " 
Then we cried again : " God save your 
Majesty! God save your Majesty!" 
Then the Qiieen said again unto us, 
" You may well have a greater prince, 
but you shall never have a more loving 
prince:" and so looking one upon 
another awhile the Queen departed. 
This wrought such an impi'ession upon 
us, for shows and pageants are ever 
best seen by torchlight, that all the way 
long we did nothing but talk what an 
admirable queen she was, and how we 
would adventure our lives to do her 
service. Now this was in a year when 
she had most enemies, and how easily 
might they have then gotten into the 
crowd and multitude to have done her 
a mischief. But here we were to come 



in at the Court gates, and there was all 
the danger of searching. 

Take her then in her yearly journeys 
at her coming to London, where you 
must understand that she did desire to 
be seen and to be magnified ; but in 
her old age she had not only wrinkles, 
but she had a goggle throat — a great 
gullet hanging out, as her grandfather 
Henry the Seventh is ever painted 
withal ; for in young people the glan- 
dels do make all things seem sinooth 
and fair, but in old people, the glandels 
being shrunk, the gullet doth make a 
little deformity. And, truly, there was 
then a report that the ladies had gotten 
false looking-glasses, that the Queen 
might not see her own wrinkles ; for 
having been exceeding beautiful and 
fair in her youth, such beauties are ever 
aptest for wrinkles in old age. 



2. Extract from the Memoirs of 
Cary, Earl of Monmouth. (Published 
in Edinborough, 1808.) 

1593. [Cary had offended Elizabeth 
by marrying.] 

I made all the haste I could to court, 
which was then at Hampton Court. I 
arrived there on St. Stephen's day in 
the afternoon. Dirty as I was, I came 
into the presence, where I found the 
lords and ladies dancing. The Queen 
was not there. My father [Lord Huns- 
don] went to the Queen to let her 
know that I was returned. She willed 
him to take iny message or letters and 
bring them to her. He came for them, 
but I desired him to excuse me ; for 
that which I had to say, either by word 
or by writing, I must deliver myself. 
. . . He acquainted her Majesty with 



Elizabeth 



27 



my resolution. With much ado I was 
called for iu ; and I was left alone with 
her. Our first encounter was stormy 
and terrible, which I passed over with 
silence. After she had spoken her 
pleasure of me and my wife, I told 
her that "she herself was the fault of 
my marriage, and that if she had but 
graced me with the least of her favours, 
I had never left her, nor her court ; 
and seeing she was the chief cause of 
my misfortune, I would never off my 
knees till I had kissed her hand, and 
obtained my pardon." She was not 
displeased with my excuse, and before 
we parted we grew good friends. 
Then I delivered my message and my 
papers, which she took very well, and 
at last gave me thanks for the pains I 
had taken. So having her princely 
word that she had pardoned and for- 
gotten all faults, I kissed her hand, and 
come forth to the presence, and was in 
the court as I was ever before. 



3. Paul Hentzer's Journey into Eng- 
land in 159S. (From Fugitive Pieces 
by several Authors. Dublin, 1762. 
Page 266 ff.) 

Upon taking the Air down the River, 
the first Thing that struck us, was the 
Ship of that noble Pirate, Sir Francis 
Drake, in which he is said to have sur- 
rounded this Globe of Earth. On the 
left Hand lies Ratcliffe, a considerable 
Suburb : On the opposite Shore is 
fixed a long Pole with Rams horns 
upon it, the intention of which was 
vulgarly said to be, a Reflexion upon 
wilful and contented Cuckolds. 

We arrived next at the Royal Palace 
of Greenwich, reported to have been 
originally build by Humphrey, Duke 
of Gloucester, and to have received 
very magnificent Additions from Henry 
VII. It was here Elizabeth, the pres- 
ent queen, was born, and here she gen- 



erally resides ; particularly in Summer, 
for the Delightfulness of its Situation. 
We were admitted by an Order Mr. 
Rogers had procured from the Lord 
Chamberlain, into the Presence-Cham- 
ber, hung with rich Tapestry, and the 
Floor after the English Fashion, strewed 
with Hay,* through which the Qiieen 
commonly passes in her way to Chapel : 
At the Door stood a Gentleman dressed 
in Velvet, with a Gold Chain, whose 
Office was to introduce to the Queen 
any Person of Distinction, that came to 
wait on her : It was Sunday, when 
there is usually the greatest Attendance 
of Nobility. In the same Hall were 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
Bishop of London, a great Number of 
Councellors of State, Officers of State, 
Officers of the Crown, and Gentlemen, 
who waited the Qiieen's coming out; 
which she did from her own Apart- 
ment, when it was Time to go to 
Prayers, attended in the following 
manner : — 

First went Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, 
Knights of the Garter, all richly dressed 
and bareheaded ; next came the Chan- 
cellor, bearing the Seals in a red Silk 
Purse, between two : One of which 
carried the Royal Scepter, the other the 
Sword of State, in a red scabbard, 
studded with golden Fleurs de Lis, the 
Point upwards : Next came the Qiieen, 
in the Sixty-fifth year of her Age, as 
we were told, very Majestic ; her Face 
oblong, fair, but wrinkled ; her Eyes 
small, yet black and pleasant ; her Nose 
a little hooked ; her Lips narrow, and 
her Teeth black (a Defect the English 
seem subject to, from their too great 
Use of Sugar) ; she had in her Ears 
two Pearls, with very rich Drops ; she 
wore false Hair, and that red ; upon 
her Head she had a small Crown, re- 
ported to be of some of the Gold of the 
celebrated Lunebourg Table : Her 

* He probably means Rushes. 



28 



Elizabeth 



Bosom was uncovered, as all the Eng- 
lish Ladies have it, till they marry ; 
and she had on a Necklace of exceeding 
fine Jewels ; her Hands were small, her 
Fingers long and her Stature neither 
tall nor low ; her Air was stately, her 
manner of speaking mild and obliging. 
That Day she was dressed in white Silk, 
bordered with Pearls of the Size of 
Beans, and over it a Mantle of black 
Silk, shot with silver Threads ; her 
Train was very long, the End of it 
borne by a Marchioness ; instead of a 
Chain, she had an oblong Collar of 
Gold and Jewels. As she went along 
in all this State and Magnificence, she 
spoke very graciously, first to one, then 
to another, whether foreign Ministers, 
or those who attended for different 
Reasons, in English, French and Ital- 
ian ; for, besides being well skilled in 
Greek, Latin and the Languages I have 
mentioned, she is Mistress of Spanish, 
Scotch and Dutch : Whoever speaks 
to her, it is kneeling ; now and then she 
raises some with her Hand. While we 
were there, W. Slawata, a Bohemian 
Baron, had letters to present to her ; and 
she, after pulling off her Glove, gave 
him her right Hand to kiss, sparkling 
with Rings and Jewels, a Mark of par- 
ticular Favour : Wherever she turned 
her Face, as she was going along, 
everybody fell down on their knees. 
The Ladies of the Court followed next 
to her, very handsome and well-shaped, 
and for the most Part dressed in white ; 
she was guarded on each Side by the 
Gentlemen Pensioners, fifty in Number, 
with gilt Battleaxes. In the Ante- 
chapel next the Hall where we were, 
Petitions were presented to her, and 
she received them most graciously, 
which occasioned the Acclamation of, 
" Long live Qiieen Elizabeth!" She 
answered it with, "I thank you iny 
good People." In the Chapel was ex- 
cellent Music ; as soon as it and the 



Service was over, which scarce ex- 
ceeded half an Hour, the Qiieen re- 
turned in the same State and Order, and 
prepared to go to Dinner. But while 
she was still at Prayers, we saw her 
Table set out with the following So- 
lemnity. 

A Gentleman entei'ed the Room bear- 
ing a Rod, and along with him another 
who had a Tablecloth, which after they 
had both kneeled three Times, with the 
utmost veneration, he spread upon the 
Table, and after kneeling again, they 
both retired. Then came two others, 
one with the Rod again, the other with 
a Salt-seller, a Plate and Bread ; when 
they had kneeled, as the others had 
done, and placed what was brought 
upon the Table, they too retired with 
the same Ceremonies performed by the 
first. At last came an unmarried Lady 
(we were told she was a Countess) , and 
along with her a married one bearing a 
Tasting-knife ; the former was dressed 
in white Silk ; who, when she had 
prostrated herself three Times, in the 
most graceful Manner, approached the 
Table, and rubbed the Plates with Bread 
and Salt, with as much Awe as if the 
Qiieen had been present. When they 
had waited there a little while, the Yeo- 
men of the Guard entered, bareheaded, 
cloathed in Scarlet, with a golden Rose 
upon their Backs, bringing in at each 
Turn a Course of twenty-four Dishes, 
served in Plate most of it Gilt ; these 
Dishes were received by a Gentleman 
in the same Order they were brought, 
and placed upon the Table, while the 
Lady taster gave to each of the Guard 
a mouthful to eat, of the particular Dish 
he had brought, for Fear of any Poison. 
During the Time that this Guard, which 
consists of the tallest and stoutest Men 
that can be found in England, being 
carefully selected for this Service, were 
bringing Dinner, twelve Trumpets, and 
two Kettledrums made the Hall ring 




GuglielmoConteSlaua 

re r^ 

TA COIVTS. SECRETO DI StaTO, 

E Cam'.deeeImperatoreFeb. 
DiNANDo S'ECONDO Gran Can 
celliekodeeRegnodiBoemiaSc 



Elizabeth 



29 



for half :ui Hour together. At the End 
of this Ceremonial a number of unmar- 
ried Ladies appeared, who, with par- 
ticular Solemnity, lifted the Meat off 
the Table, and conveyed it into the 
Qiieen's inner and more private Cham- 
ber, where, after she had chosen for 
herself, the rest goes to the Ladies of 
the Court. 

The Queen dines and sups alone with 
very few Attendants ; and it is very sel- 
dom that anybod}'. Foreigner or Na- 
tive, is admitted at that Time, and then 
only at the Litercession of somebody in 
Power. . . . 

. . . We left London in a coach in 
order to see the remarkable places in 
its neighborhood. . . . 

Wiinisor, a Royal Castle, supposed 
to have been begun by King Arthur, 
its buildings much increased by Ed- 
ward in. The Situation is entirely 
worthy of being a Royal Residence, a 
more beautiful being scarce to be 
found : For from the Brow of a gentle 
Rising it enjoys the Prospect of an 
even and green Country ; its Front 
commands a valley extending every 
Way, and chequered with arable Lands 
and Pasturage, cloathed up and down 
with Groves, and watered by that gen- 
tlest of Rivers the Thames ; behind 
the several Hills, but neither steep nor 
very high, crowned with Woods, and 
seeming designed by Nature herself for 
the purpose of LIunting. . . . 

This Castle besides being the Royal 
Palace, and having some magnificent 
Tombs of the Kings of England, is 
famous for the ceremonies belonging to 
the Knights of the Garter. This Order 
was instituted by Edward IIL, the same 
who triumphed so illustriously over 
King John of France. The Knights 
of the Garter are strictly chosen for 
their military Virtues, and Antiquity of 
Family : The)' are bound by solemn 
Oath and Vow to mutual and perpetual 



Friendsliip among themselves, and to 
the not avoiding any Danger whatever, 
or even Death itself, to support by their 
joint Endeavours the Honour of the So- 
ciety : They are stiled. Companions of 
the Garter, from their wearing below 
the left knee a purple Garter, inscribed 
in letters of Gold, with " Honi soit qui 
mal y pense," /. e.. Evil to him that 
evil thinks: This they wear upon the 
left Leg, in Memory- of one which hap- 
pening to untie, was let fall by a great 
Lady, passionately beloved by Edward, 
while she was dancing, and was imme- 
diately snatched up b}' the King ; who, 
to do Honour to the Lady, not out of 
an)' trifling Gallantry, but with a most 
serious and honorable Purpose, dedi- 
cated it to the Legs of the most distin- 
guished Nobility. The Ceremonies of 
this Society are celebrated every Year 
at Windsor on St. George's Day, the 
tutelar Saint of the Order, the King 
presiding ; and the Custom is, that the 
Knights Companions should hang up 
their Helmet and Shield, with their 
Arms blazoned on it, in some conspic- 
uous Part of the Church. . . - 

The English are serious like the Ger- 
mans, Lovers of Shew ; liking to be 
followed wherever they go by whole 
Troops of Servants, who wear their 
Master's Arms in Silver, fastened to 
their left Arms, a Ridicule they deserv- 
edly lay under : they excel in Dancing 
and Music, for they are active and live- 
ly, though of a thicker Make than the 
French ; they cut their Hair close on 
the Middle of the Head, letting it grow 
on either Side ; they are good Sailors, 
and better Pirates, Cunning, Treacher- 
ous and Thievish : above 300 are said to 
be hanged annually at London ; be- 
heading with them is less infamous 
than hanging ; they give the Wall as 
the Place of Honour ; hawking is the 
general Sport of the Gentry ; they are 
more polite in Eating than the French, 



30 



Elizabeth 



devouring less Bread, but more Meat, 
which they roast in Perfection ; they 
put a great deal of Sugar in tlieir 
Drink ; their Beds are covered with 
Tapestry, even those of Farmers ; they 
are often molested with the Scurvy, 
said to have first crept into England 
with the Norman Conquest ; their 
Houses are commonly of two Stories, 
except in London, where they are of 
three and four, though but seldom of 
four ; they are built of Wood, those of 
the richer sort with Bricks, their Roofs 
are low, and where the Owner has 
Money, covered with Lead. 

They are powerful in the Field, suc- 
cessful against their enemies, impatient 
of anything like Slavery ; vastly fond 
of great Noises that fill the Ear, such 
as the firing of Cannon, Drums, and 
the ringing of Bells, so that it is com- 
mon for a number of them, that have 
got a Glass in thejr Heads, to go up 
into some Belfry, and ring the Bells 
for Hours together, for the sake of Ex- 
ercise. 

If they see a Foreigner, very well 
made or particularly handsome, they 
will say, // /s a pity he is not an Eng- 
lishman. 



4. Extract from Goodman, Court of 
King James 1. (Vol. I. p. 17.) 1699. 

. . . Duke Prussiano, a very courte- 
ous and brave nobleman, did resolve 
to come over to see England, and to 
come in a private way. Our ambassa- 
dor in France, hearing thereof, gave 
notice to our secretary, who acquaint- 
ing her majesty therewith, order was 
taken that one should come in his com- 
pany, to be a spy upon him, to know 
his lodging and to discover his person. 
The duke (as the fashion was) came 
to the court upon a Sunday, to see the 
Queen go to the chapel. The Qiieen 
having notice of this, and knowing 
him by one that stood next to him, as 



she came by took some occasion to call 
the lord chamberlain, as I take it, to 
tie her shoe-strings, or to do some such 
like office ; and there making a stay, 
she took the duke by the hand, who 
followed her into the privy chamber. 
She did then graciously use him, and 
after feasted him, and gave him great 
entertainment, which was very well 
taken by the French king and queen : 
and then did the Queen dance a gal- 
liard very comely, and like herself, to 
show the vigour of her old age. He 
that would relate those private danc- 
ings should not have forgotten this, so 
famous and so well-known ; for even 
the Italians did then say that it was a 
wonder to see an old woman, the head 
of the church, being seventy years of 
age, to dance in that manner and to 
perform her part so well. . . . 



K,. Extracts from State Papers, i6oij 
concerning the conspiracy of Essex. 

I . Speech of Cecil in the Star 
Chamber. 
As the declining of the sun brings 
general darkness, so her Majesty's hurt 
is our continual night, and although 
the one by course of nature may be re- 
newed, yet the other will hardly be 
matched in any future age ; how odious 
then ought they to be in the eye of all 
good subjects, that have sought the 
utter ruin of so blessed a sovereign ! 
The principal author thereof, that trait-* 
orous Earl of Essex, more like a 
monster than a man, has most ungrate- 
fully requited his most gracious Prin- 
cess. Being but a boy in years and a 
child in experience, he has been graced 
with more than common dignities. 
Her Highness first made him master 
of the horse, then master of her ord- 
nance, and first a member and then 
president of her Privy Council. After- 
wards, besides many other private gifts. 



Elizabeth 



31 



of value, amounting to not less than 
300,oooi£, she advanced him to the 
dignity of Earl Marshal and confirmed 
him Lord General of her forces in 
Ireland ; vvrhere how traitorously he 
behaved himself, I would his own soul 
might be judge. 

In all this flourishing time of these 
ill-deserved preferments, his head was 
hatching confusion to her person, and 
the whole state of his country. . . . 
Though he has as in a false glass pre- 
sented his discontents to the view of 
the world, yet we know that these seven 
years he has intended treason, strength- 
ening himself, with vulgar opinions, 
and the hearts of such subjects as, by 
affability and promises of gifts he was 
able to maintain. . . . He came over 
from Ireland so unexpectedly to remove 
such from the Qiieen as he misliked, 
and could not bend to his traitorous 
faction ; then Tyi-one and he were to 
join their forces, and by destroying her 
Majesty, Essex to be made sole King 
of England. 

2. Directions for Preachers. 

Amongst all the treasons that have 
happened in this kingdom none can be 
found more detestable than this wicked 
purpose of the Earl of Essex, now in 
the Tower, to set the crown of Eng- 
land upon his own head. . . . All this 
time he has carried himself after a very 
insolent and ambitious sort, especially 
for six or seven years past. . . . 

If he had not been prevented, there 
had never been a rebellion in England 
since Richard II. more desperate or 
dangerous. The rebellion in the North 
was far off, and thereby not so peril- 
ous. The great Armada of Spain was 
but a thunderclap, the noise being 
greater than the danger, and her 
Majesty's subjects faithfully united to 
encounter it. . . . The Earl of Essex 
had so possessed this villain's (Thomas 



Lea's) heart that, last Thursday night, 
between 9 and 10 v. m. he pressed to 
the privy chamber door and remained 
there almost an hour, with the reso- 
lution that when her Highness came 
forth to supper in the privy chamber, 
he would seize upon her person, until 
she had signed a warrant for the Earl's 
deliverance. 

J. yohii Chatnberlain to Dudley 
Carletoii. 

. . . Tom Lea traitorously attempted 
to possess himself of the privy cham- 
ber ; he told his enterprise to Sir Henry 
Neville . . . and to Sir Robert Crosse, 
who both revealed it. . . . When ar- 
raigned and confronted by Sir Robt. 
Crosse and the rest, he said he only 
meant to vex her for half an hour, that 
she might live the merrier all her life 
after ; and in this tune he died very 
resolutely on the 17th at Tyburn. . . . 

4. Confession of Essex. 

. . . The late Earl . . . acknowl- 
edged with thankfulness that he was 
thus justly spewed out of the realm. 
He publicly in his prayer and protes- 
tation, as also privately aggravated the 
detestation of his sin, and especially in 
the hearing of them that were present 
at the execution, desiring God to for- 
give him his great, bloody, crying and 
infectious sin, which word infectious 
he had privately explained to us was a 
leprosy which had infected far and 
near. 



6. The Death of Elizabeth. (From 
Camden,) 

1603. 

The Queen, who had hitherto enjoyed 
a good stock of health, through her 
exact temperance both as to wine and 
diet (which she used to say was the 
noblest part of physick) being in her 
climacterical year, viz., the 70th year 
of her age, began to perceive in herself 



32 



Elizabeth 



some weakness and decay of health and 
spirits, and the ill weather increased her 
indisposition ; till on the last of January, 
which prov'd a vei'y stormy day, she 
removed from Westminster to Rich- 
mond, to enjoy there the remains of life 
with more freedoin, and better oppor- 
tunities for the service of God. . . . 
The Courtiers made it their observation 
that the Qiieen was never more constant 
to the service of the chappel than at 
present. They likewise report that she 
then commanded the ring in which she 
had been espoused in form to her king- 
dom at her coronation, and had never 
been took off before, to be filed from her 
finger, because it was so grown into the 
flesh that it could not be got off any 
other way. And this was looked upon 
as a very melancholy omen and portend- 
ing no less than a dissolution of her 
marriage with the state, which by that 
emblem she had contracted. In the be- 
ginning of her sickness the almonds of 
her throat swelled, but soon came down 
again. After that her appetite went off 
by degrees and she gave herself to a 
melancholy. . . . The Qiieen looked 
upon herself as an helpless and aban- 
doned person, and would, in an excess 
of passion, drop now and then an 
expression to this purpose : " They 
have now got me in a yoak ; I have 
nobody left that I can trust : and my 
condition is the very reverse of what it 
was." And to imbitter her sorrows yet 
more, they persuaded her that she had 
lost much of her interest in the hearts of 
her people. . . . As soon as the rumour 
was confinned that the Qiieen' s illness 
increased upon her, and that she was 
now greatly averse to physick, as indeed 
she had ever appeared in her younger 
days, 'tis hardly credible with how for- 
ward a zeal, all ranks and conditions of 
men, puritans, papists and others . . . 
hasted away . . . into Scotland, to pay 



their adorations to the rising sun, the 
young king : whose pretensions the 
Q_ueen always favoured at the bottom. 
... In the beginning of March she 
was seized with a kind of stupour or 
heaviness, joined with a pettishness 
common enough to antient persons. 
. . . On the 34th of March (1603), 
being the eve of the annunciation, she 
enjoyed a blessed remove from this 
world to a better . . . after a glorious 
reign of 44 years and 4 months and in 
the 70th year of her age ; a period never 
yet attained by any of the kings of 
England. 



7. Letter of John Chamberlain, Esq. , 
to Dudley Carleton, Esq. (In Court 
and Times of James I. Lond. 1848.) 

March 30th, 1603. 
... I make no question but you 
have heard of our great loss before this 
comes to you. ... I had good means 
to understand how the world went, and 
find her disease to be nothing but a 
settled and unremoveable melancholy. 
... It can not be said of her, as it was 
of the Emperor Hadrian, that turda 
medicormn occldit regeni ; for they say 
she died only for lack of physic. There 
was some whispering that her brain 
^vas somewhat distempered, but there 
was no such matter ; only she held an 
obstinate silence for the most part, and 
because she had a persuasion that if she 
once laid down she should never rise, 
could not be gotten to bed in a whole 
week till three days before her death. 
So that, after three weeks' languishing, 
she departed the 24th of this present, 
being bur Lady's Eve, between two and 
three in the morning. . . . She made 
no will, nor gave anything away, so 
that they which come after shall find a 
well-furnished house, a rich wardrobe 
of more than two thousand gowns, with 
all things else answerable. 




KING JAMES, qUEEN ANNE, PRINCE CHARLES, PRINCE HENRY. 
(Engnived early in tliis century from an original of Crispin de Passe.) 



James I. 



33 



GROUP V. 

CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OF JAMES I. 



I. Extracts from Sully's Memoirs 
(Bohn Edition, 1S56. Vol. II. p. 364). 

The King of England, who had be- 
fore acquainted me that he would grant 
me an audience on the 32nd [June, 
1603], which was Sunday, sent a gen- 
tleman to confirm it to me, to desire I 
would not think the time tedious, and 
to be informed how I was lodged, and 
whether I wanted anything. To this 
favor was also added a present of half 
a buck, w^hich, as this prince informed 
me by the bearer, he had killed that 
day, and was the first he had ever taken 
in his life, though he was a great lover 
of the chase ; the reason was, there 
being very few in Scotland, and this 
the first he had hunted in England. 
From hence he took occasion to make 
Henry [IV.] a compliment, by saying 
that he attributed his good fortune to 
the arrival of a man, who came from 
a prince that was looked upon to be 
the king of hunters. I replied . . . 
that when the king my master made 
a party for the chase, he was so far 
from thinking, like the King of Eng- 
land, that my presence would con- 
tribute to its success, that he generally 
sent me to pursue other affairs in the 
cabinet, where, he said, I was more 
happy. Though there was nothing 
serious in all this, I was nevertheless 
glad of the opportunity that was af- 
forded me to insinuate myself into his 
Britannic majesty's favour, and with 
this view I turned my compliment in 
such a manner as might please the self- 
complacency of James, who, I very 
well knew, was extremely flattered by 
any comparison with the King of 
France. . . . 

One part of the orders I had given 
with regard to the ceremony of my 



audience, was, that all my retinue 
should appear in mourning, to execute 
with propriety the first part of my 
commission, which consisted in com- 
plimenting the new king on the death 
of Elizabeth, though I had been in- 
formed at Calais that no one, whether 
ambassador, foreigner, or English, was 
admitted into the presence of the new 
king in black ; and Beaumont had since 
represented to me, that what I in- 
tended would most certainly be highly 
disagreeable to the court, where so 
strong an affectation prevailed to oblit- 
erate the memory of that great princess 
that she was never spoken of, and even 
the mention of her name industriously 
avoided. 

I should have been very glad not to 
have been sensible of the necessity I 
was laid under of appearing in a garb 
which would seem to cast a reproach 
on the king and all England ; but my 
orders hereupon were positive, not to 
mention that they were almost laudable ; 
and this was the reason I paid no regard 
to Beaumont's representations, who en- 
treated me to defer putting myself to 
this trouble and expense till he had 
written about it to Erskine and some 
others, who were best acquainted with 
the couit ceremonials. He wrote ac- 
coi'dingly, but received no answer on 
Thursday, Friday, nor even on Satur- 
day ; and I still persisted in my resolu- 
tion notwithstanding the reasons which 
he continually gave me to the contrary. 
On Saturday night, which was the even- 
ing of the day preceding my audience, 
and so late that I was in bed, Beaumont 
came to tell me that Erskine had sent to 
acquaint him that the whole court con- 
sidered my intention as a premeditated 
affront, and that I had so offended the 



34 



James I. 



king by it, tliat nothing would more 
effectually prevent the success of my 
negotiation, from its very commence- 
ment. This information agreeing with 
that of Lord Sydney, the Viscount de 
Saraot, La Fontaine and the States' 
deputies, it was impossible for me to 
be in doubt about it ; and, through fear 
lest a greater evil should ensue, I caused 
all my retinue to change their appai"el, 
and provide theinselves others as well 
as they could. Lewkenor coming the 
next morning to inforin me that I should 
be presented to the king at three o'clock 
in the afternoon, I perceived, from the 
satisfaction which he expressed at the 
new orders I had given, that it was 
indispensably necessary to vanquish 
my repugnance ; nevertheless it publicly 
gained me almost as much honour as if 
I had persisted in my intention, because 
none were ignorant that I had complied 
only through absolute necessity. . . . 
What was most remarkable in my 
reception on Sunday, the 29th of June, 
was, that all the gentlemen of my 
retinue had the honour of being treated 
with a dinner by his majesty, and I 
had that of being admitted to his own 
table. In pursuance of His Majesty's 
directions, I arrived at Greenwich about 
ten o'clock in the morning, and was 
present with him at divine service, in 
which there was a sermon. He said 
nothing particular to me from the time 
of my arrival till our sitting down to 
table ; the conversation turned almost 
entirely upon the chase and the weather ; 
the heat was excessive, and much more 
violent than was usual at London in 
this month. Only Beaumont and my- 
self sat with James at table, where I 
was not a little surprised to see that he 
was always served on the knee ; a sur- 
tout in form of a pyramid was placed 
in the middle of the table, which con- 
tained most costly vessels, and was even 
enriched with diamonds. 



The conversation continued the same 
as before, during great part of the en- 
tertainment ; but an opportunity offer- 
ing for the king to speak of the late 
Qiieen of England, he did it, and to 
my great regret, with some sort of con- 
tempt ; he even boasted of the dexterity 
which he had employed to manage her 
by means of her own councillors, all of 
whom, he said, he had gained over dur- 
ing her life, so that they did nothing 
but what was agreeable to him ; that it 
was, therefore, not at this time only he 
governed England, but several years be- 
fore the death of the late Qiieen, whose 
memory did not seem agreeable to him. 
He then called for some wine, his cus- 
tom being never to mix water with it, 
and holding the glass in his hand toward 
Beaumont and myself, he drank to the 
health of the King, the Queen and the 
royal family of France. I returned him 
his health, and that too without for- 
getting his children. He inclined him- 
self to my ear when he heard me name 
them, and told me softly, that the next 
health he would drink should be to the 
double union which he meditated be- 
tween the royal houses. He had never 
till now said a single word to me about 
this ; and I thought the opportunity 
which he had thus taken for it was not 
extremely well chosen. I failed not, 
however, to receive the proposal with 
all possible marks of joy, and replied 
softly that I was certain Henry would 
not hesitate in his choice between his 
good brother and ally, and the King of 
Spain, who had before applied to him 
upon the same subject. James, sur- 
prised at what I told him, informed 
me in his turn, that Spain had made 
him the same offers of the Infanta for 
his son, as she had to France for the 
Dauphin. At last he quitted the com- 
pany to go to bed, where he usually 
passed part of the afternoon, and some- 
times even the whole of it. 



James I. 



35 



2. Sir Anthony Weldon's Character 
of King James I. First published in 
161^0. (In Smeeton's Historical and 
Biographical Tracts, Vol. I. London, 
iSzo.) 

This King's Character is much easier 
to take than his Picture, for he could 
never be brought to sit for the taking 
of that, which is the reason of so few 
good pieces of him ; but his Character 
was obvious to every eye. 

He was of middle stature, more coi- 
pulent through his cloathes then in his 
body, yet fat enough, his cloathes ever 
being made large and easie, the doublets 
cjuilted for steletto proof, his Breeches 
in plates, and full stuffed. He was 
naturally of a timorous disposition, 
which was the reason of his quilted 
doublets, his eye large ever rowling 
after any stranger came in his presence, 
in so much, who that for shame have 
left the room, as being out of counte- 
nance ; his beard was very thin ; his 
tongue too large for his mouth, which 
ever made him drink very uncomely, 
as if eating his drink, which came out 
into the cup of each side his mouth ; 
his skin was as soft as Taffeta Sarsnet, 
which felt so, because he never washt 
his hands, only rub'd his fingers' ends 
slightly, with the wet-end of a Napkin ; 
his legs were very weak, having as was 
thought some foul play in his youth, or 
rather before he was born, that he was 
not able to stand at seven years of age, 
that weakness made him ever leaning 
on other men's shoulders; his walk 
was ever circular ... ; he was very 
intemperate in his drinking ; however 
in his old age, and Buckitt^kajn' s ]ov\a.\ 
Suppers, when he had any turn to do 
with him, made him sometimes over- 
taken, which he would the very next 
day remember, and repent with tears. 
It is true that he drank very often, which 
was rather out of a custom than any 
delight, and his drinks were of that 



kind of strength as Frontiniack, Canary, 
High Canary wine. Tent wine and 
Scottish Ale, that had he not had a 
very strong brain, might have daily 
been overtaken, although he seldom 
drank at any one time above four spoon- 
fuls, many times not above one or two ; 
he was very constant in all things, his 
Favorites excepted, in which he loved 
change, yet he never cast down any one 
he once raised from the height of great- 
ness, though from their wanted near- 
ness and privacy ; unless by their own 
default, by opposing his change, as in 
Somerset' s case: yet had he not been 
in that foul poisoning business, and so 
cast down himself ; I do verily believe 
not him neither ; for all his other Favor- 
ites he left great in Honor, great in 
Fortune ; and did much love Alount- 
goJtzery, and trusted him more at the 
very last gasp, then in the first minute 
of his Favoriteship : in his Dyet, Ap- 
parel, and Journeys, was very constant ; 
in his apparel so constant, as by his 
good will he would never change his 
cloathes till very ragges : his fashion 
never ; insomuch as a man bringing to 
him a Hat of a Spanish Block, he cast 
it from him, swearing he neither loved 
them nor their fashions. Another time, 
bringing him Roses on his Shoes, asked 
if they would make him a ru£f-footed- 
Dove ? one yard of six penny Ribbond 
served that turn : his Dyet and Journeys 
were so constant, that the best observ- 
ing Courtier of our time was wont to 
say, was he asleep seven years, and 
then awakened, he would tell where 
the King every day had been, and every 
dish he had had at his Table. 

He was not very uxorious, though he 
had a very brave Queen that never 
crossed his designs, nor intermeddled 
with State affaires, but ever complyed 
with him, against the nature of any; 
but of a mild spirit in the change of 
favorites ; for he was ever best when 



36 



James 1. 



furthest from the Queen, and that was 
thought to be the first grounds of his 
often removes which afterwards proved 
habitual. He was unfortunate in the 
marriage of his Daughter, and so was 
all Christendom besides ; but sure the 
Daughter was more unfortunate in a 
Father than he in a Daughter ; he 
naturally loved not the sight of a Soldier, 
nor of any valiant man. . . . He was 
very witty, and had as many witty jests 
as any man living at which he would 
not smile himself, but deliver them in 
a grave and serious manner. He was 
very liberal, of what he had not in his 
own gripe, and would rather part with 
£ioo he never had in his keeping, than 
one twenty-shilling piece within his 
own custody : He spent much, and had 
much use of his subjects' purses, which 
bred some clashing with them in Par- 
liament. . . . 

He would make a great deal too bold 
with God in his passion, both in curs- 
ing and swearing, and one strain higher, 
verging on blasphemy ; But would in 
his better temper say, he hoped God 
would not impute them as sins. . . . 
He was infinitely inclined to prayer, 
but more out of fear then conscience ; 
and this was the greatest blemish this 
King had through all his reign, other- 
wise he might have been ranked with 
the very best of our Kings. . . . 

In a word, take him altogether and 
not in pieces, such a King I wish this 
Kingdom have never any worse, on 
the condition, not any better ; for he 
lived in peace, dyed in peace, and left 
all his Kingdoms in a peaceable con- 
dition, with his own Motto: Beatt 
Pacifica. 

3. A Counterblast to Tobacco. 
Pamphlet written by James I. (In 
Arber English Reprints. London, 
1S69.) Spelling modernized. 

. . . And now good Countrymen let 
us (I pray you) consider, what honor 



or policy can move us to imitate the 
barbarous and beastly inanners of the 
wild, godless and slavish Indians, espe- 
cially in so vile and stinking a custom ? 
Shall we that disdain to imitate the 
manners of our neighbor France (hav- 
ing the style of the first Christian king- 
dom) and that cannot endure the spirit 
of the Spaniards (their King being 
now comparable in largeness of Domin- 
ions to the great Emperor of Turkey) : 
Shall we, I say, that have been so long 
civil and wealthy in peace, famous and 
invincible in war, fortunate in both, 
we that have been ever able to aid any 
of our neighbors (but never deafed any 
of their ears with any of our supplica- 
tions for assistance) shall we, I say, 
without blushing, abase ourselves so 
far as to imitate these beastly Indians, 
slaves to the Spaniards, refuse to the 
world, and as yet aliens from the holy 
Covenant of God .'' Why do we not 
as well imitate them in walking naked 
as they do ? in preferring glasses, 
feathers, and such toys, to gold and 
precious stones as they do } yea why 
do we not deny God and adore the 
Devil as they do } 

Now to the corrupted baseness of the 
first use of this tobacco doth very well 
agree the foolish and groundless first 
entry thereof into this Kingdom. It is 
not so long since the first entry of this 
abuse amongst us here as [that] this 
present age cannot yet very well re- 
member, both the first author and the 
form of the first introduction of it 
among us. It was neither brought in 
by King, great Conqueror, nor learned 
Doctor of Physic. 

With the report of a great discovery 
for a Conquest, some two or three 
savage men were brought in, together 
with this savage custom. But the pity 
is, the poor wild barbarous men died, 
but th:it vile barbarous custom is yet 
alive, 3'ea in fresli vigor : so as it seems 



James I. 



11 



a miracle to me, how a custom spring- 
ing from so vile a ground, and brought 
in by a father so general I3' hated, 
[Raleigh] should be welcomed upon 
so slender a warrant . . . 

. . . This tobacco is not simply of 
a dry and hot quality, but rather hath 
a certain venomous faculty joined with 
the heat thereof, which makes it have 
an antipathy against nature, as by the 
hateful smell thereof doth well appear. 
For the nose being the proper organ 
and convoy of the sense of smelling 
to the brains, which are the only foun- 
tain of that sense, doth ever serve us 
for an infallible witness whether that 
odor which we smell be healthful or 
hurtful to the brain. . . . 

The second argument grounded on 
a show of reason is, thut this filthy 
smoke, as well through the heat and 
strength thereof, as by a natural force 
and quality, is able to purge both the 
head and stomach of rheums and dis- 
tillations, as experience teacheth, by 
the spitting and avoiding phlegm imme- 
diately after the taking of it. But the 
fallacy of this argument may easily ap- 
pear. . . . This stinking smoke being 
sucked up by the nose and imprisoned 
in the cold and moist brains, is, by their 
cold and wet faculty, turned and cast 
forth again in watery distillations, and 
so are you made free and purged of 
nothing but that wherewith you wil- 
fully burdened yourselves. . . . 

As lor the other two reasons founded 
upon experience, the first of which is, 
that the whole people would not have 
taken so general a good liking thereof 
if they had not by experience found it 
very sovereign and good for them : for 
answer thereunto how easily the minds 
of any people, wherewith God had 
replenished tiiis world, may be drawn 
to the foolish affectation of any novelty, 
I leave it to the discreet judgment of 
any man that is reasonalsle. Do we 



not daily see that a man can no sooner 
bring over from beyond the seas any 
new form of apparel but that he cannot 
be thought a man of spirit that would 
not presently imitate the same? And 
so from hand to hand it spreads, till it 
be practised by all, not for any com- 
modity there is in it but only because 
it is come to be the fashion. . . . 
Many in this Kingdom have had such 
a continual use of taking this unsavory 
smoke, as now they are not able to 
forbear the same, no more than an old 
drunkard can abide to be long sober, 
without falling into an uncurable weak- 
ness. ... It is, as you use or rather 
abuse it, a branch of the sin of drunk- 
eness, which is the root of all sins : for 
as the only delight that drunkards take 
in wine is in the strength of the taste, 
and the force of the fume thereof that 
mounts up to the brain : for no drunk- 
ards love any weak or sweet drink : so 
are not those (I mean the strong heat 
and the fume) the only qualities that 
make tobacco so delectable to all the 
lovers of it? . . . 

And for the vanities committed in 
this filthy custom, is it not both great 
vanity and uncleanness, that at the table, 
a place of respect, of cleanliness, of 
modesty, men should not be ashamed 
to sit tossing of tobacco pipes, and 
puffing of the smoke of tobacco one to 
another, making the filthy smoke and 
stink thereof to exhale athwart the 
dishes and infect the air, when very 
often men that abhor it are at their re- 
past? Surely smoke becomes a kitchen 
far better than a dining chamber, and 
yet it makes a kitchen also oftentimes 
in the inward parts of men, soiling 
and infecting them with an unctuous 
and oily kind of soot, as hath been 
found in some great tobacco takers 
that after their death were opened. . . . 
The public use whereof at all times 
and in all places, hath now so far pre- 



38 



James I. 



vailed, as [that] divers men, very sound 
both in judgment and complexion, have 
been at last forced to take it also with- 
out desire, partly because they were 
ashamed to seem singular . . . and 
partly to be as one that was content to 
eat garlic (which he did not love) that 
he might not be troubled with the 
smell of it in the breath of his fellows. 
And is it not a great vanity that a man 
cannot heartily welcome his friend now, 
but straight they must be in hand with 
tobacco? No it is become in place of 
a cure, a point of good fellowship, and 
he that will refuse to take a pipe of 
tobacco among his fellows (though for 
his own election he would rather feel 
the savor of a sink) is accounted 
peevish and no good company, even 
as they do with tippling in the cold 
Eastern countries. Yea the mistress 
cannot in a more mannerly kind enter- 
tain her servant than by giving him out 
of her fair hand a pipe of tobacco. 
... A custom loathsome to the eye, 
hateful to the nose, harmful to the 
brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in 
the black, stinking fume thereof, near- 
est resembling the horrible Stj'gian 
smoke of the pit that is bottomless. 

Laxv of King James to restrict the Use 
of Tobacco. (lit Arber.) 

Oct. 17, 1604. 
. . . Whereas Tobacco ... is now 
at this day, through evil custom and the 
toleration thereof, excessively taken by 
a number of riotous and disordered 
persons of mean and base condition 
who ... do spend most of their time 
in that idle vanity, to the evil example 
and corrupting of others, and also do 
consume that wages which many of 
them get by their labor, and whei-ewith 
their families should be relieved, not 
caring at what price they buy that drug, 
but rather devising how to add to it 
other mixture, thereby to make it the 



more delightful to their taste, though so 
much the more costly to their purse : by 
which great and immoderate taking of 
tobacco the health of a great number of 
our people is impaired, and their bodies 
weakened and made unfit for labor, the 
estates of many mean persons so decayed 
and consumed as [that] they are there- 
by driven to unthrifty shifts only to 
maintain their gluttonous exercise there- 
of, besides that also a great part of the 
treasure of our land is spent and 
exhausted by this only drug : — we do 
therefore will and command you our 
Treasurer of England ... to give order 
to all Customers, Controllers, Searchers, 
Surveyors and other officers of our ports 
that . . . they shall demand . . . the 
sum of six shillings and eight pence up- 
on every pound weight thereof, over 
and above the Custom of two pence 
upon the pound weight usually paid 
heretofore. . . . 

Extract from a Letter of Rev. Thomas 
Lorkiii to Sir Thomas Pucker- 
ing, Bart. 

(In Court and Times of James I. Vol. 
II. p. 137.) 

. . . His majesty hath newly pub- 
lished a book, being certain meditations 
on the Lord's prayer, which he hath 
dedicated to the Marquis of Bucking- 
ham, as the preface can inform you. 
You shall receive it herein likewise. 



4. Extract from the "Daemonologie" 
of James I. (In Harris, Life of James 
I. Lond. 1S14, p. 45.) 

The fearful abounding at this time 
[1597], in this country [Scotland], of 
these detestable slaves of the devil, the 
witches or enchanters, hath moved me, 
beloved reader, to dispatch in post this 
following treatise of mine, not in any 
wise (as I protest) to serve for a shew 
of my learning and ingene, but only 
(moved of conscience) to press thereby 



James I, 



39 



so far as I can, to resolve the doubting 
hearts of many ; both that such assaults 
of Satan are most certainly practised, 
and that the instrunient thereof merits 
most severely to be punished, against 
the damnable opinions of two principally 
in our age, whereof the one called Scot, 
an Englishman, is not ashamed in public 
print to deny that there can be such a 
thing as witchcraft ; and so maintains 
the old errors of the Sadducees in deny- 
ing of spirits ; the other called Wierus, 
a German physician, sets out a public 
apology for all these crafts-folks, where- 
by, procuring for their impunity, he 
plainly bewrays himself to have been 
one of that profession. And for to 
make this treatise the more pleasant 
and facile, I have put it in form of a 
dialogue, which I have divided into 
three books ; the first speaking of magic 
in general, and necromancie in special : 
the second of sorcerie and witchcraft : 
and the third contains a discourse of all 
these kinds of spirits, and spectres that 
appear and trouble persons : together 
with a conclusion of the whole work. 
. . . Witches ought to be put to death 
according to the law of God, the civil 
and imperial law, and the municipal law 
of all Christian nations. Yea to spare 
the life, and not to strike when God 
bids strike, and so severely punish in so 
odious a fault and treason against God, 
it is not only unlawful, but doubtless no 
less sin in the Magistrate nor it was 
in Saul's sparing Agag. . . . Barnes 
[bairns] or wives, or never so defamed 
persons, may serve for sufficient wit- 
nesses against them. . . . There are 
two good helps that inay be used for 
their trial : the one is the finding of their 
mark, and the trying the insensibleness 
thereof : the other is their fleeting on 
the water : for, as in a secret murther, 
if the dead carkas be at any time there- 
after handled by the murtherer, it will 
gush out of blood, as if the blood were 



crying to the heaven for revenge of the 
murtherer : God having appointed that 
secret supernatural sign, for trial of that 
secret unnatural crime : so that it appears 
that God hath appointed (for a super- 
natural sign of the monstrous impiety of 
witches) that the water shall refuse to 
receive them in her bosom, that have 
shaken off them the sacred water of 
baptism, and wilfully refused the benefit 
thereof : no, not so much as their eyes 
are able to shed tears (threaten and 
torture them as you please) while first 
they repent (God not permitting them 
to dissemble their obstinacie in so hor- 
rible a crime) . Albeit the women-kind 
especially, be able otherwise to shed 
tears at every light occasion when they 
will, yea, although it were dissembling 
like the crocodiles. 

Statute of First Tear of James I. 
(In Harris, p. 4S.) 

... If any person or persons shall 
use, practise, or exercise any invoca- 
tion, or conjuration of any evil and 
wicked spirit, or shall consult, coven- 
ant with, entertain, employ, feed or 
reward any evil and wicked spirit, to 
or for any intent and purpose : or take 
up any dead man, woman, or child, 
out of his, her or their grave, or any 
other place where the dead body rest- 
eth, or the skin, bone, or any part of 
any dead person, to be employed or 
used in any manner of witchcraft, 
sorcery, charm, or inchantment ; or 
shall use, practise, or exercise any 
witchcraft, inchantment, charm or 
sorcery, whereby any person shall be 
killed, destroyed, wasted, consumed, 
pined or lamed in his or her body, or 
any part thereof ; that then every such 
offender or offenders, their aiders, 
abettors, and counsellors, being of any 
the said offenses duly and lawfully con- 
victed and attainted, shall suffer pains 
of death as a felon or felons, and shall 



40 



James I. 



lose the privilege and benefit of clergy 
and sanctuary. 



5. Letter of Sir John Harrington to 
Sir Amyas Paulett. (In Jesse, Me- 
moirs of the Court of England under 
the Stuarts. Vol. I. p. 70.) 

January, 1610. 
My Loving Cousin : It behoveth me 
now to write my journal respecting the 
gracious command of my sovereign 
prince to come to his closet ; which 
matter, as you so well and urgently 
desire to hear of, I shall, as suiteth my_ 
best ability, relate unto you, and is as 
followeth : — When I came to the 
presence-chamber and had gotten good 
place to see the lordly attendants and 
bowed my knee to the prince, I was 
ordered by special messenger, and that 
in secret sort, to wait awhile in an out- 
ward chamber, whence, in near an 
hour waiting, the same knave led me 
up a passage, and so to a small room 
where was good order of paper, ink 
and pens, put in a board for the 
prince's use. Soon upon this the 
prince his higlmess did enter and in 
much good humor asked "if I was 
cousin to Lord Harrington of Exton? " 
I humbly replied "His majesty did 
some honor in enquiring my kin to one 
whom he had so late honored and 
made a baron," and moreover did add, 
" we were both branches of the same 
tree." Then he discoursed much of 
learning, and showed me his own in 
such sort, as made me remember my 
examiner at Cambridge. He sought 
much to know my advances in philos- 
ophy, and uttered profound sentences 
of Aristotle and such like writers, 
which I had never read and which 
some are bold enough to say others do 
not understand ; but this I pass by. 
The prince did now press my reading 
to him part of a canto of Ariosto ; 
praised my utterance, and said he had 



been informed of many as to my learn- 
ing in the time of the Qiieen. He 
asked me what I thought pure wit was 
made of and whom it did best become? 
Whether a king should not be the best 
clerk in his own country ; and if this 
land did not entertain good opinion of 
his learning and good wisdom.' His 
majesty did much press for my opinion 
touching the power of Satan in matter 
of witchcraft, and asked me with much 
gravity if I did truly understand why 
the devil did work more with antient 
women than others.' I did not refrain 
from a scurvy jest, and even said (not- 
withstanding to whom it was said) that 
we were taught hereof in Scripture 
where it is told that the devil walketh 
in dry places. His majesty, moreover, 
was pleased to say much and favorably, 
of my good report for merit and good 
conceit : to which I did covertly 
answer, as not willing a subject should 
be wiser than his prince, nor even 
appear so. 

More serious discourse did next en- 
sue, wherein I wanted room to con- 
tinue, and sometimes some to escape : 
for the Queen, his mother, was not 
forgotten, nor Davison neither. His 
highness told me her death was visible 
in Scotland before it did really happen, 
being, as he said, spoken of in secret 
by those whose power of sight pre- 
sented to them a bloody head dancing 
in the air. He then did remark on 
this gift (second sight) and said he 
sought out of certain books a sure way 
to attain knowledge of future chances. 
Hereat he named many books which 
I did not know, nor by whom written ; 
but advised me not to consult some 
authors which would lead me to evil 
consultations. I told his majesty the 
power of Satan had, I much feared, 
damaged my bodily frame, but I had 
not further will to court his friendship 
for my soul's hurt. We next dis- 



James I. 



41 



coursed somewhat upon religion, when 
at length he said : " Now, sir, you 
have seen my wisdom in some sort and 
I have pried into yours ; pray you do 
me justice in your report, and in good 
reason I will not fail to add to your 
understanding in such points as I find 
you lack amendment." I made cour- 
tesy hereat, and withdrew down the 
passage and out at the gate, amidst the 
many varlets and lordly servants who 
stood around. Thus you have the his- 
tory of your neighbor's high chance 
and entertainment at court; more of 
which matter when I come home to 
my dwelling and talk of these affairs 
in a corner. I must press to silence 
hereon, as otherwise all is undone. I 
did forget to tell that His Majesty much 
asked concerning my opinion of the 
new weed, tobacco, and said it would, 
by its use, infuse ill qualities on the 
brain, and that no learned man ought 
to taste it, and wished it forbidden. I 
will now forbear further exercise of 
your time, as Sir Robert's man waiteth 
for my letter to bear to you, from yoar 
old neighboi , 

Friend and Cousin, 

John Harrington. 



6. Letters of John Chamberlain. 
Esq., to Sir Dudley Carleton. (In 
Court and Times of James I. Vol. II. 
p. 115.) 

London, Dec. 20th, 161S. 

The king hath been to Theobalds 
ever since Wednesday, and comes to 
town this day ; and unless his presence 
bring us some news, we are likely to 
have a dead and dull Christmas. I am 
sorry to hear that he grows every day 
more froward, and with such a kind of 
morosity, that doth either argue a great 
discontent in mind, or a distemper of 
humours in his body. Yet he is never 
so out of tune, but the very sight of 
my Lord of Buckingham doth settle 
and quiet all. 



May 14th, 1619. 

It were to no purpose to make any 
long description of the funeral [of 
Anne of Denmark, James's Qiieen], 
which was but a drawling, tedious 
sight, more remarkable for number 
than for any other singularity, there 
being 2S0 poor women, besides an 
army of men fellows, that were serv- 
ants to the lords, and others of the 
train. And, though the number of 
lords and ladies was very great, yet 
methought, altogether, they made but 
a poor show; which, perhaps, was, 
because they were apparelled all alike, 
or that they came loggering all along, 
even tired with the length of the way 
and the weight of their cloaks, every 
lady having twelve yards of broad 
cloth about her, and the countesses 
sixteen. . . . 

June 5th [three weeks after !] 

The king came from Theobalds, on 
Tuesday, to Whitehall, all along the 
fields ; and, on the back side of Gray's 
Inn, was met by a fair troop of our 
citizens on horseback, with their chains 
of gold, or pearl, or diamonds; and 
the aldermen m scarlet. The recorder 
made a short speech in congratulation 
of his recovery, and excuse of the lord 
mayor' s absence ; whereto the King 
gave no great heed, making little show 
of being pleased, as being given to 
understand that he is more sullen than 
sick, which, in very truth, is otherwise, 
for he continues still in weak estate. 
The King was attended by the prince 
[Charles I.], and all the nobility, in 
very good equipage ; himself very fresh 
in a ■ suit of watchet satin, laid with 
silver lace, with a blue and white 
feather; as also his horse was furnished 
with the like, both before and behind. 
Insomuch that all the company was 
glad to see him so gallant, and more 
like a wooer than a mourner. But 
what decorum it will be when ambas- 



42 



James I. 



sadors come to condole (as here is one 
now from the Duke of Lorraine, witli 
three or four and twenty followers, all 
in black) , let them consider whom it 
more concerns. . . . 

June 26th. 
. . . The king this next week, makes 
a petty progress to Otelands, Oking 
and Windsor. . . . His legs and feet 
come pretty well to him, having found 
out a very good expedient of late, to 
bathe them in every buck and stag's 
belly in the place where he kills them ; 
which is counted an excellent remedy 
to strengthen and restore the sinews. 
Alt reste, he is fallen to his old diet, 
and will not be persuaded to forbear 
fruit, nor sweet wines. In the mean 
time we are driven to hardships for 
money, and all too little ; so that we 
are fain to make sale of jewels for 
£20,000, to furnish out this progress. 



7. Letter of James to a certain Blake 
concerning the Puritans. No date. 
(In Ellis, Original Letters, 3d Series, 
4th volume, p. 161.) English mod- 
ernized. 

My honest Blake. . , . The letter 
talking of deambulatory councils and 
such like satiric tricks did a little chafe 
me, but ye may see I answered accord- 
ing to the old scholar's rule, in quo 
casu quceris^ in eodein res fondere 
teneris, for I would be sorry not to be 
as constant indeed as she was that 
called herself semper eadem; indeed 
ye may tell the beagle that he hath 
best cause to complain of my being a 



peripatetic, for I will oftimes walk 
so fast, round about and above with 
hiin, that he will be like to fall down 
dead upon the floor. I can give you 
no other thanks for your daily working 
and public railing upon me, save only 
this, do what ye can ye can give me 
no more arguments of your faithful 
affection towards me, and do what I 
can unto you, I can never increase a 
hair the devotion of your service towards 
me. 

We have kept such a revel with the 
Puritans here these two days as was 
never heard the like, where I have 
peppered them as soundly as ye have 
done the Papists there ; it were no 
reason that those that will refuse the 
airy sign of the cross after baptism 
should have their purses stuffed with 
any more solid and substantial crosses ; 
they fled me so from argument to argu- 
ment without ever answering me di- 
rectly, ut est eorutn moris, that I v^'as 
forced at last to say unto them, that if 
any of them had been in a college dis- 
puting with their scholars, if any of 
their disciples had answered them in 
that sort, they would have fetched him 
up in place of a reply, and so should 
the rod have plied upon the poor boy's 
buttocks. I have such a book of theirs 
as may well convert infidels, but it 
shall never convert me, except by turn- 
ing me more earnestly against them ; 
and thus praying you to commend me 
to the honest chamberlain, I bid you 
heartily farewell. 

James R. 



James I. 



43 



GROUP VI. 

THE GUNPOWDER PLOT. 1 605 A. D. 



I. Account of Father John Gerard. 
(In "The Condition of Catholics under 
James by John Morris." Loncl., 1S71, 
p. 96.) 

[Father Gerard was tried for com- 
plicity in the plot, but acquitted.] 

. . . About ten days before the Par- 
liament should have begun the Lord 
Mounteagle (whose affection to Cath- 
olics hath long time been known unto 
divers) being at his own house and at 
supper, a man came to his page in the 
street and delivered him a letter wish- 
ing him to deliver the same unto his 
Lord's own hands, which the page 
performed, but made no stay of the 
bringer thereof, who presently departed. 
The Lord Mounteagle not knowing the 
hand, and seeing no name subscribed, 
caused one of his men to read it unto 
him, and it was of this tenour. 

"My Lord, out of the love I bear 
to some of your friends, I have a care 
of your preservation, therefore I would 
advise you, as you tender your life, to 
devise some excuse to shift off your 
attendance at this Parliament, for God 
and man have concurred to punish the 
wickedness of this time. And think 
not slightly of this advertisement, but 
retire yourself into your country, where 
you may expect the event in safety. 
For though there be no appearance of 
any stir, yet, I say, there shall receive 
a terrible blow this Parliament, and 
yet they shall not see who hurts them. 
This council is not to be contemned, 
because it may do you good, and can 
do you no harm, for the danger is 
passed so soon as you have burnt the 
letter. And I hope God will give you 
the grace to make use of it, to Whose 
holy protection I commend von." 



This was the letter which the Lord 
Mounteagle having considered, and see- 
ing so dangerous matter contained in it, 
he presently went to the Lord of Salis- 
bury, who is Chief Secretary of His 
Majesty, and delivered the letter unto 
him, with relation of all circumstances 
of the receipt and reading of the letter. 
The Lord of Salisbury seemed not at 
the first to make any great account of 
it, yet said he would acquaint some 
other Lords of the Council with the 
same and commended the Lord Mount- 
eagle for his fidelity and his care of His 
Majesty's safety, and of the State, and 
presently showed the letter to the Lord 
Chamberlain, and then both of them 
thought the letter might have some 
relation with other informations the 
Lord of Salisbury had received beyond 
seas, concerning some business intended 
by the Papists ; and they seemed to think 
there might be some perilous attempt 
intended. And therefore they two con- 
cluded to join with them three other of 
the Council, to wit, the Lord Admiral 
the Lord of Worcester and Northamp- 
ton, to be acquainted with this matter; 
who having all of them concurred to- 
gether to the examination of the contents 
of the said letter, they did conclude 
(saith the book written of the discovery 
of this treason) that how slight soever 
a matter at the first appear, yet was it 
not absolutely to be condemned, in 
respect of the care which it behoved 
them to have of the preservation of His 
Majesty's person. Yet they resolved, 
for two reasons, first to acquaint the 
King himself with the same, before they 
proceeded to any further inquisition in 
the matter, as well (saith the book) for 
the expectation and experience they had 



44 



James I. 



of His Majesty's foi'tunate iudgement in 
clearing and solving of obscure riddles 
aid doubtful mysteries, as also because 
the more time would in the meanwhile 
lij given for the practise to ripen (if any 
was) whereby the discovery might be 
ihe more clear and evident, and the 
ground of proceeding thereupon more 
safe, just, and easy. And so according 
to their determination the said Earl of 
Salisbury did repair to the King upon 
the Friday after, being Ali-Hallovv-day 
which was the day after His Majesty's 
arrival from Royston, where he had 
been at his hunting exercise, and was 
come up to London to be present at the 
beginning of tlie Parliament. Tlie Earl 
tlierefore finding the King alone in his 
gallery, without any other speech or 
judgement giving of the letter, but only 
relating simply the form of the delivery 
tliereof, he presented it to His Highness. 
The King no sooner read the letter, but 
after a little pause, and then reading it 
over again, he delivered his judgement 
of it in such sort, as he thought it was 
not to be contemned ; for that the style 
of it seemed to be more quick and pithy 
than is usual to be in any pasquil or libel, 
the superfluities of idle brains. But the 
Earl of Salisbury perceiving the King 
to apprehend it deepljer than he looked 
for, knowing his nature, told him that 
he thought by one sentence in it, that it 
was like to be written by some fool or 
madman, reading to him that sentence 
in it, "For the danger is past as soon as 
you have burnt the letter," which he 
said was likely to be the saying of a 
fool ; for if the danger was passed so 
soon as the letter was burnt then the 
warning behoved to be of little avail, 
when the burning of the letter might 
make the danger to be eschewed. But 
the King by the contrary, considering 
the foriner sentence in the letter, "That 
they should receive a terrible blow at 
this ParHament, and 33t should not see 



who hurt them;" joining it to the 
sentence immediately following aheady 
alleged, did thereupon conjecture that 
the danger mentioned should be some 
sudden danger by blowing up of powder. 
For no other insurrection, rebellion or 
whatsoever other private or desperate 
attempt could be committed orattempted 
in time of Parliament and the authors 
thereof unseen except only if it were lay 
a Ijlowing up of powder, which might 
be performed by one base knave in a 
dark corner : whereupon he was moved 
to interpret and construe the latter 
sentence in the letter (alleged by the 
Earl of Salisbury against all ordinary 
sense and construction grammar) as if 
by these words, "For the danger is 
passed as soon as you have burned the 
letter," should be closely understood by 
suddenty and quickness of the danger, 
which should be as quickly performed 
and at an end, as that paper should be 
of bhizing up in the fire, turning the 
word of "as soon" to the sense of "as 
quickly;" and therefore His Majesty 
wished that before his going to the 
Parliament, the under rooms of the 
Parliament House might be well and 
narrowly searched. The Earl of Salis- 
bury wondering at His Majesty's com- 
mentary, which he knew to be so far 
contrary to his ordinary and natural 
disposition, who did rather ever sin 
upon the other side, in not apprehend- 
ing nor trusting the advertisements of 
pr ictices and perils wliqn he was freely 
informed of them, and interpreting 
rightly his extraordinary caution at this 
time to proceed from the vigilant care 
he had of the whole State more than of 
his own person, yet he thought good to 
dissemble still unto the King, that there 
was just cause of such apprehension, 
and ended the present talk with some 
merry jest as his custom is. But though 
he seemed to neglect it to His Majesty, 
yet he could not be addressed till with 



James I. 



45 



the Lord Chamberlain he came again 
unto His Majesty, at which time it was 
agreed that the said Lord Chamberhiin 
should according to his custom and office 
view all the Parliament Houses both 
above and below, and consider what 
likelihood or appearance of any such 
danger might be gathered : but yet this 
was deferred until the afternoon before 
the sitting down of the Parliament, 
which was upon the Monday following : 
at what time, he according to this con- 
clusion went to the Parliament House 
accompanied with the Lord Mounteagle, 
where having viewed all the lower 
rooms, he found in the vault under the 
Upper House great store and provision 
of billets, faggots, and coals : and in- 
quiring of Whyneyard, keeper of the 
wardrobe to what use he had put the 
lower rooms and cellars, he told him 
that Mr. Thomas Percy had hired both 
the house and part of the cellar or vault 
under the same and that the wood and 
coal therein was the said gentleman's 
own provision. Whereupon the Lord 
Chamberlain looking into the room per- 
ceived a fellow standing in a corner, 
who called himself the said Percy his 
man, and keeper of that house for him, 
but indeed was Guido Faulks, the inan 
that should have acted that monstrous 
tragedy. 

The Lord Chamberlain looking upon 
all things with a heedful eye, though 
in outward show he seemed careless, 
presently addressed himself to the 
King, and in the presence of the Lord 
Treasurer, the Lord Admiral, the Earls 
of Worcester, Northampton, and Salis- 
bury, he made his report what he had 
seen and observed there, affirming that 
he did wonder not a little at the extra- 
ordinary great provisions of wood and 
coal in that house where Thomas Percy 
had so seldom occasion to remain, as 
likewise it gave him in his mind, that 
his man looked like a verv tall and 



desperate fellow. This could not but 
increase the King's former apprehen- 
sion, whereupon he willed that those 
billets and coals should be searched to 
the bottom : and of the same opinion 
wei'e the Lords there present, although 
they thought it fit to have it done in the 
night, and by a Justice of Peace only 
under pretence of searching for some 
of the King's stuff that was missing; 
and this for two reasons ; one was lest 
if nothing were found, it should seem 
the King and State were too suspicious 
of every light toy ; also for that they 
said it would lay an ill-favoured impu- 
tation upon the Earl of Northumber- 
land, one of His Majesty's greatest 
subjects and Councillors : this Thomas 
Percy being his kinsman and most con- 
fident familiar. . . . 

That night following being Monday 
night (when the Parliament should 
have begun a^td ended also the next 
day) Sir Thomas Knevet, a gentleman 
of His Majesty's Privy chamber, was 
sent to search the place at midnight 
under pretence of looking for some 
other things as was before devised. 
When he came to the Parliament House 
before his entry into Mr. Percy his 
lodging, he found the foresaid man 
that had the keeping of the house for 
Mr. Percy standing without tiie house 
and seeing him with his clothes on and 
booted at so dead time of the night, the 
Justice apprehended him : and after 
went forward to the searching of the 
house, where after he had caused to be 
overturned some of the billets and 
coals, he first found one of the small 
barrels of powder, and after, all the 
rest, to the number of thirty-six barrels 
great and small. And thereafter search- 
ing the fellow whom he had taken, 
found three matches and all other 
instruments fit for blowing up of the 
powder ready upon him : which made 
him instantly to confess what his intent 



46 



James I. 



was, affirming withal that if he had 
happened to have been within the 
house when he was taken, as he was 
immediately before at the ending of 
his work, he would not have failed to 
have blown up the Justice, house and 
all. . . . 

The prisoner was carried fast bound 
unto the Court. . . . All that day the 
Council could get nothing out of him 
concerning his complices, refusing to 
answer to any such questions which he 
thought might discover the plot, and 
laying all the blame upon himself, 
whereunto he said he was moved only 
for religion and conscience sake, deny- 
ing the King to be his lawful sovereign 
or the anointed of God, in respect he 
was an heretic. . . . But after he had 
been three or four days in the Tower 
and was threatened with the rack only, 
as the printed book saith (though the 
common voice was that he was ex- 
tremely racked the first days), then, 
whether to avoid torments, or for that 
he might understand that the gentlemen 
had discovered themselves by rising up 
in arms in the country, he then named 
some of his complices, with his own 
name also [Fawkes], and how the 
matter was broken unto him, and how 
begun and prosecuted, as I have before 
declared ; yet I cannot find by his con- 
fession which is published in print, 
that he named above six of those who 
had wrought in the mine and provision 
of the powder and who then were all 
known to be up in arms. . . . 



2. Declaration of Guy Fawkes. 
(From the Gunpowder Treason, 
Lond., 1679.) 

I confess that a practice in general 
was first broken unto me against his 
Majesty for relief of the Catholique 
cause, and not invented or propounded 
by myself. And this was first pro- 
pounded unto me about Easter last 



was twelve-month, beyond the seas, in 
the Low Countries of the Arch-Duke's 
obeysance, by Thomas Winter, who 
came thereupon with me into England, 
and there we imparted our purpose to 
three other Gentlemen more, namely 
Robert Catesby, Thomas Percy and 
John Wright, who all five consulting 
together of the means how to execute 
the same, and taking a vow among 
ourselves for secresie, Catesby pro- 
pounded to have it performed by Gun- 
powder, and by making a myne under 
the Upper House of Parliament ; which 
place we made choice of the rather, 
because religion having been unjustly 
suppressed there, it was fittest that 
justice and punishinent should be exe- 
cuted there. 

This being resolved amongst us, 
Thomas Percy hired an house at West- 
minster for that purpose, near adjoin- 
ing to the Parliament House, and there 
we begun to make our Myne about the 
nth of December, 1604. 

The five that first entered into the 
work were Thomas Percy, Robert 
Catesby, Thomas Winter, John Wright, 
and myself : and soon after we took an- 
other unto us, Christopher Wright, 
having sworn him also, and taken the 
Sacrament for secrecy. 

When we came to the very founda- 
tion of the wall of the House, which 
was about three yards thick, and found 
it a matter of great difficulty, we took 
unto us another gentleman, Robert 
Winter, in like manner, with oath and 
sacrament as aforesaid. 

It was about Christmas when we 
brought our Myne unto the wall, and 
about Candlemas we had wrought the 
wall half through : and whilst they 
were in working, I stood as sentinel, to 
descrie any man that came near, 
whereof I gave them warning, and so 
they ceased until I gave notice again to 
proceed. 



James I. 



47 



All we seven lay in the house, and 
had shot and powder, being resolved to 
die in that place before we should yield 
or be taken. 

As they were working upon the wall, 
they heard a rushing in a cellar of re- 
moving of coales, whereupon we feared 
we had been discovered : and they sent 
me to go to the cellar, who finding 
that the coales were a selling, and that 
the cellar was to be let, viewing the 
commodity thereof for our purpose, 
Percy went and hired the same for 
yearly rent. 

We had before this provided and 
brought into the house twenty barrels 
of powder, which we removed into the 
cellar, and covered the same with bil- 
lets and fagots, which were provided 
for that purpose. 

After Easter, the Parliament being 
prorogued till October next, we dis- 
persed ourselves, and I retired into the 
Low Countreys, by advise and direction 
of the rest, as well as to acquaint Owen 
with the particulars of the plot, as also 
least by my longer stay I might have 
grown suspicious, and so have come in 
question. 

In the mean time, Percy having the 
key of the Cellar, laid in more powder 



and wood into it. I returned about the 
beginning of September next, and then 
receiving the key of Percy, we brought 
in more powder and billets to cover the 
same again, and so I went again into 
the countrey till the 30th of October. 

It was further resolved amongst us, 
that the same day that this act shoidd 
have been performed, some other of 
our confederates should have surprised 
the person of the Lady Elizabeth 
[Later Qiieen of Bohemia], the king's 
eldest daughter, who was kept in War- 
wickshire at the Lord Harington's 
house, and presently have jjroclaimed 
her queen, having a project of a proc- 
lamation ready for that purpose, where- 
in we made no mention of altering of 
religion, nor would have avowed the 
deed to be ours, until we should have 
had power enough to make our party 
good, and then we would have avowed 
both. 

Concerning Duke Charles, the king's 
second son, we had sundry consulta- 
tions how to seize on his person. But 
because we found no means how to 
compass it (the Duke being kept near 
London, where we had not forces 
enough) we resolved to serve our turn 
with the Lady Elizabeth. 



GROUP VII. 

THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH TO THE COUNT PALATINE. 



Extracts from the Letters of John 
Chamberlain, Esq., to Sir Dudley Carle- 
ton. (In Court and Times of James 
I., Loudon, 1S4S, pp. 157.) 

Jan. 2Sth, 1612. 
. . . We hear the king is still at 
Newmarket, somewhat troubled with 
a humour in his great toe, that must not 
be christened or called the gout. . . . 

June 17th. 
. . • The king hath been coming- 



and going to Eltham all the last week. 
. . . But for all his pleasure, he for- 
gets not business ; but hath found the 
art of frustrating men's expectations, 
and holding them in suspense. 

October 22d. 
The king came from Theobalds on 
Saturday, having notice of the Count 
Palatine's arrival at Gravesend the night 
before. He [the Count Palatine] had 
a very speedy and prosperous passage; 



48 



James I. 



for coming from the Hague on Thurs- 
day, at eleven o'clock, he embarked 
that evening at Maesland Sluice, and 
the next night, about ten, landed at 
Gravesend, where he continued all 
Saturday ; and on Sunday morning the 
Duke of Lennox, and some other noble- 
men and courtiers, were sent to con- 
duct him to the court, where he arrived 
about five o'clock, and was met at the 
Watergate by the Duke of York, at- 
tended by the Earls of Shrewsbury, 
Worcester, and others, and so brought 
through the hall, and along the terrace 
to the new great chamber, where the 
Jiing expected him. Theprince [Henry, 
heir apparent] stirred not a foot, which 
was much noted. He had a great peal 
of ordnance as he passed by the Tower, 
and came with some disadvantage into 
such presence, having been so long on 
the water in the coldest days that came 
this winter; and yet he carried himself 
with that assurance, and so v^'ell and 
gracefully, both toward king, queen 
and prince, and specially his mistress, 
that he won much love and commen- 
dation. The king is much pleased in 
him, and carried him presently into his 
bedchamber, and there bestowed a i"ing 
of the value of iEiSoo upon him. From 
thence he was conveyed through the 
privy lodgings and galleries to the 
water, and so to Essex House, where 
he yet remains; but is every day at 
court, and plies his mistress hard, and 
takes no delight in running at ring, nor 
tennis, nor riding with the prince, as 
Count Henry, his uncle, and others of 
his company do, but only in her con- 
versation. On Tuesday she sent to 
invite him, as he sat at supper, to a 
play of her own servants in the cock- 
pit ; and yesterday they were all day 
together at Somerset House, which is 
much beautified within this year or two. 
He hath a train of very sober and well- 
fashioned gentlemen ; his whole num- 



ber is not above 170, servants and all. 
being limited by the King not to exceed. 
There have been some c.dled coram, 
for scandalous speeches of him and 
the match . . . But howsoever some 
would embase his means, and mean- 
ness of estate and title to match with 
such a lady, yet all do approve his 
manners and behaviour ; and there be, 
that stick not to prefer or equal him, 
at least, with the best princes in Italy 
for blood and dignity, and not far be- 
hind them in revenue ; his rents and 
earnings in being approved to be 
£160,000 a year, besides provisions, 
which amount to half as much more, 
and his charge and expense not answer- 
able to theirs. . . . 

Nov. 4th, 161 2. 
. . . The Count Palatine continues 
in favour and liking with all, especially 
at court, where he is now lodged in the 
late lord treasui-er's lodgings. Yester- 
day night the Lady Elizabeth invited 
him to a solemn supper and a play, 
and they meet often at meals without 
curiosity or crowing. On Sunday was 
sevennight he dined with the king and 
prince in the privy chamber, but sat 
bare all the while, whether by custom 
or rather, as is thought, to bear the 
prince company, who never come 
abroad since that day, being seized by 
a fever that . . . hath continued a 
quotidian since Wednesday last and 
with more violence than it began, so 
that on Saturday he was let blood bv 
advice of most physicians, though But- 
ler, of Cambridge, was loth to consent. 
The blood proved foul ; and that after- 
noon he grew very sick, so that both 
king, queen and Lady Elizabeth went 
severally to visit him, and revelling 
and plays appointed for that night were 
put off . . . He and the Count Pala- 
tine were invited and promised to the 
lord mayor's feast on Thiusday last, 




, .0)/. '0 'ih 



^'■'2. ^ 



i' -v 



J? lies I. 



49 



and great preparations were made for 
them ; but by this accident he failed. 
The Count Palatine and his company, 
after they had seen the show in Cheap- 
side, went to Guildhall, and were there 
feasted and welcomed by Sir John 
Swinnerton, the new made lord mayor, 
and presented toward the end of the 
dinner in the name of the city with a 
fair standing cup, a curious basin and 
ewer, with two large livery pots, weigh- 
ing altogether 1 200 ounces, to the value 
almost of £500 . . . He behaved him- 
self very courteously and in very good 
fashion at the feast, and would needs 
go to see and salute the lady mayoress 
and her train where she sat. The 
show was somewhat extraordinary, with 
four or five pageants and other devices. 

Nov. I 2th, 161 2. 

When I was closing up my letter to 
you the last week, I understood more of 
the prince's sickness than I was willing 
to impart ; for I knew it could be no 
welcome news anywhere ; and I was in 
hopes the world might amend. But 
going the next morning, the 5th of 
November, to hear the Bishop of Ely 
preach at court, ... I found, b}' the 
king and queen's absence from the 
sermon, and by his manner of praying 
for him, how the matter stood, and 
that he was pleni deploratits. For I 
cannot learn that he had either speech 
or perfect memory after Wednesday 
night, but lay, as it were, drawing on 
till Friday, between eight and nine 
o'clock in the evening, that he de- 
parted. The world here is much dis- 
mayed at the loss of so beloved and 
likely a prince on such a sudden, and 
the physicians are much blamed, 
though, no doubt, they did their best. 
... It is verily thought that the dis- 
ease was no other than the ordinary 
ague that hath reigned and raged al- 
most all over England since the latter 



end of summer, which, by observation, 
is found must have its ordinary course, 
and the less physic the better, but only 
sweating, and an orderly course of 
keeping and government. The ex- 
tremity of the disease seemed to lie in 
his head, for remedy whereof they 
shaved him, and applied warm cocks 
and pigeons newly killed, but with no 
success. ... In his extremity, they 
tried all manner of conclusions upon 
him, as letting him blood in the nose, 
and whatsoever else they could im- 
agine ; and, at the last cast, gave him 
a quintessence sent by Sir Walter 
Raleigh, which, he says, they should 
have applied sooner, that brought him 
to some sort of sense, and opening his 
eyes, and some will needs say, speech, 
but all failed again presently. 

Amongst the rest he [Raleigh] hath 
lost his greatest hope, and was grown 
into special confidence with him, inso- 
much that he had moved the king 
divers times for him, and had, lastly, a 
grant that he should be delivered out of 
the Tower before Christmas. ... It 
is observed that this late prince never 
cast or shed his teeth from his infancy, 
which, when Butler heard some days 
since, he prophesied that he was not 
vitalis or long-lived. . . . The Lady 
Elizabeth is much afflicted with this 
loss, and not without good cause, for 
he did extraordinarily affect her, and, 
during his sickness, inquired still after 
her ; and the last words he spoke in 
good sense, they say, were, " Where is 
my dear sister?" . . . 

Nov. 19th, 1612. 

. . . The king was quickly weary of 
Kensington, because he said the wind 
blew thorough the walls that he could 
not lie warm in his bed. He came to 
Whitehall yesterday was sevennight 
and went away on Tuesday last to 
Theobalds, and is this day for Royston. 



50 



James I. 



He carried the Count Palatine along 
with him, whose marriage, by this late 
accident, is retarded, because it would 
be thought absurd that foreign ambas- 
sadors, coming to condole the prince's 
death, should find us feasting and 
dancing ; so that it is deferred till May- 
day, and the mourning for the prince 
to continue till the 24th of March, but 
the fiancing is appointed the 27th of 
December, and his counsellors hope 
and do their best to advance the mar- 
riage soon after. 

Dec. 17th, 1612. 

. . . Sir Francis Bacon hath set out 
new essays, where, in a chapter of De- 
fo7-mity, the world takes notice that he 
paints out his little cousin to the life. 

Dec. 31st. 
. . . Sir Thomas Lake, on Sunday 
last, outstripped his competitors by one, 
by reading the contract betwixt the 
Palsgrave and the Lady Elizabeth, 
which is the part of a principal secre- 
tary, praeire conceptis vei'bis^ in such 
solemn business. But they say he had 
translated the words of our Commun- 
ion Book into French so badly, and 
pronounced them worse, that it moved 
an unseasonable laughter, as well in 
the contractors as standers-by. . . . 
This affiancing was solemnized in the 
great banqueting-room on Sunday be- 
fore dinner, in the presence of the king 
and great store of the nobility ; but the 
queen was absent, being troubled, as 
they say, with the gout. The king was 
not out of his chamber in three or four 
days before, nor since, having a spice 
of the same disease. . . . 

Feb. 4th, 1612-13. 

. . . The Prince Palatine feasted all 
the council the last week, and carried 
himself with great commendation, but 
specially he respected the archbishop 
and his followers above all the rest as 



having received only at his hands en- 
tertainment and kind usage since his 
coming into England. On Sunday 
last and on Candlemas-day he and his 
lady were solemnly asked openly in the 
chapel by the Bishop of Bath and 
Wells, and the next Sunday is the last 
time of asking. 

There is extraordinary preparations 
for fireworks and fights upon the water, 
with three castles, built upon eight 
western barges, and one great castle 
upon the land, over against the court. 
One or two of the pinnaces are come 
already from Rochester ; and divers 
other vessels, to the number of six and 
thirty, are provided, some like galleys, 
some galleasses, and some like car- 
racks, and other ships of war ; and 
above 500 watermen, already pressed, 
and 1,000 musqueteers of the Trained 
Bands, in the shires hereabout, made 
ready for this service, which, in all 
computation, cannot stand the King in 
so little as £5,000. 

On Tuesday, I took occasion to go to 
court, because I had never seen the 
Palsgrave nor the Lady Elizabeth near 
hand for a long time. I had my full 
view of them both, but will not tell 
you what I think ; but only this, that 
he owes his mistress nothing, if he 
were a king's son, as she is a king's 
daughter. The worst is, methinks, he 
is much too young and small timbered 
to undertake such a task. 

Letter from John Chamberlain, Esq., 
to Mrs. Carleton. 

London, February iS, 1612-13. 

Though Mr. Wake be now coming, 
and looks for his dispatch within a day 
or two, who is able to make a large 
discourse of all that passed at this wed- 
ding ; yet because this is like to arrive 
there before him, I will give you a 
little touch or taste of that, whereof 




1 6 ' ' 


!/X' 


' f7) 


' ni 


fU 


1' ' 7( 




--^, n ... 



II 

II ^^ 



/ ) 



'''^i'J (-,v. .hP 



James I. 



51 



you may receive from him full and 
complete satisfaction. 

On Thursday night the fireworks 
■were reasonably well performed, all 
save the last castle of fire, which bred 
most expectation, and had most devices, 
but when it came to execution had 
worst success. On Saturday, likewise, 
the fight upon the water came short of 
that show and brags have been made 
of it ; but they pretend the best to be 
behind, and left for another day, which 
was the winning of the castle on land. 
But the king and all the company took 
so little delight to see no other activity 
tut shooting and putting of guns, that 
it is quite given over, and the navy 
Tinrigged, and the castle pulled down 
the rather for that there were divers 
hurt in the former fight, as one lost 
both his eyes, another both his hands, 
another one hand, with divers others 
maimed and hurt, so that to avoid 
further harm it was thought best to let 
it alone ; and this is the conclusion of 
all the preparation, with so much ex- 
pense of powder and inoney, which 
■amounted to no less than £9,000. 

On Sunday, I was fetched from 
Paul's, where I was set at the sermon, 
to see the bride go to church ; and 
though it were past ten o'clock before 
we came there, yet v^'e found a noble 
window reserved in the Jewel House, 
which was over against her coming 
•down. A pair of stairs set off the gal- 
lery, made along the court into the 
hall, so that we had as much view as a 
short passage could give ; but the ex- 
cess of bravery, and the continual suc- 
cession of new company, did so dazzle 
me, that I could not observe the tenth 
part of that I wished. The bridegroom 
and bride were both in a suit of cloth 
of silver, richly embroidered with sil- 
ver, her train carried up by thirteen 
young ladies, or lords' daughters, at 
least, besides five or six more that 



could not come near it. These were 
all in the same livery with the bride, 
though not so rich. The bride was 
married in her hair, that hung down 
long, with an exceeding rich coronet 
on her head, which the king valued the 
next day at a million of crowns. Her 
two bridemen were the young prince 
and the Earl of Northampton. The 
king and queen both followed, the 
queen all in white, but not very rich, 
saving in jewels. The king, me- 
thought, was somewhat strangely at- 
tired in a cap and feather, with a 
Spanish cape and a long stocking. 
The chapel was very straitly kept, 
none suffered to enter under the degree 
of a baron, but the three lords chief 
justices. In the midst thei'e was a 
handsome stage or scaffolding made on 
the one side, whereon sat the king, 
prince. Count Palatine, and Count 
Henry of Nassau. On the other side, 
the queen, with the bride and one or 
two more. Upon this stage they were 
married by the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, assisted by the Bishop of Bath 
and Wells, who made the sermon. It 
was done all in English, and the 
Prince Palatine had learned as much as 
concerned his part reasonably perfectly. 
The French, Venetian, and State's am- 
bassadors, dined that day with the 
bride. The Spanish ambassador was 
sick, and the archduke's was invited 
for the day, but would not come. 

That night was the lord's masque, 
whereof I hear no great commendation, 
save only for riches, their devices being 
long and tedious, and more like a play 
than a masque. The next morning, the 
king went to visit these young turtles 
that were coupled on St. Valentine's 
day, and did strictly examine him 
whether he were a true son-in-law and 
was sufficiently assured. That after- 
noon the king, prince. Count Palatine, 
with divers others, ran at the ring, and, 



52 



James I. 



when that was ended, and the king and 
prince gone, the Palsgrave mounted 
upon a high-bounding horse, which he 
managed so Hke a horseman, that he 
was exceedingly commended, and had 
many shouts and acclamations o£ the 
beholders; and, indeed, I never saw 
any of his age come near to him in that 
exercize. 

It were long and tedious to tell you all 
the particulars of the excessive bravery, 
both of men and women, but you may 
conceive the rest by one or two. The 
Lady Wotton had a gown that cost fifty 
pounds a yard the embroidery. I hear, 
the Earl of Northumberland's daughter 
w^as very gallant, and the Lord Monta- 
cute, that hath paid reasonably well for 
recusancy, bestowed fifteen hundred 
pounds in apparel for his two daugh- 
ters. The Viscount Rochester, the 
Lord Hay and the Lord Dingwall, 
were exceeding rich and costly ; but, 
above all, they speak of the Earl of 
Dorset. But this extreme cost and 
riches makes us all poor. 

On Monday night was the Middle 
Temple and Lincoln's Inn masque pre- 
pared in the hall at court, whereas the 
lords' was in the banqueting room. It 
went from the Rolls all up Fleet Street 
and the Strand, and made such a gal- 
lant and glorious show, that it is highly 
commended. They had forty gentle- 
men of best choice out of both houses, 
and the twelve masquers, with their 
torch-bearers and pages, rode likewise 
uj)on horses exceedingly w^ell trapped 
and furnished, besides a dozen little 
boys, dressed like baboons, that served 
for an anti-masque, and, they say, per- 
formed it exceedingly well when they 
came to it ; and three open chariots, 
drawn with four horses apiece, and 
carried their musicians and other per- 
sonages that had parts to speak. AH 
which, together with their trumpeters 
and other attendants, were so well set 



out, that it is generally held for the best 
show that hath been seen many a day. 
The king stood in the gallery to behold 
them, and made them ride about the 
Tilt Yard, and then they were received 
into St. James's Park, and so out, all 
along the galleries, into the hall, where 
themselves and their devices, which they 
say were excellent, made such a glitter- 
ing show, that the king and all the com- 
pany were exceedingly pleased, and 
especially with their dancing, which 
was beyond all that hath been seen yet. 
The king made the masters kiss his 
hand on parting, and gave them many 
thanks, saying, he never sav^^ so many 
proper men together, and himself ac- 
companied them at the banquet, and 
took care it should be well ordered, and 
speaks much of them behind their 
backs, and strokes the master of the 
rolls and Dick Martin, who were chief 
doers and undertakers. 

On Tuesday it came to Gray's Inn 
and the Inner Temple's turn to come 
with their masque, whereof Sir Francis 
Bacon was the chief contriver; and, 
because the former masque came on 
horseback and in open chariots, they 
made choice to come by w^ater from 
Winchester Place, in Southwark, which 
suited well with their device, which 
was the marriage of the river of Thames 
to the Rhine ; and their show by water 
was very gallant, by reason of infinite 
store of lights, very curiously set and 
placed, and many boats and barges, 
with devices of light and lamps, with 
three peals of ordnance, one at their 
taking water, another in the Temple 
Garden, and the last at their landing; 
which passage by water cost them bet- 
ter than three hundred pounds. They 
were received at the Privy Stairs, and 
great expectation there was that they 
should every way excel their competi- 
tors that went before them ; but in de- 
vice, daintiness of apparel and, above all. 



James I. 



53 



in dancing, wherein they are held excel- 
lent, and esteemed for the properer men. 

But by what ill planet it fell out, I 
kno\v not, they came home as they 
went, without doing anything ; the rea- 
son whereof I cannot yet learn thor- 
oughly, but only that the hall was so 
full that it was not possible to avoid it, 
or make room for them ; besides that, 
most of the ladies were in the galleries 
to see them land, and could not get in. 
But the worst of all was, that the king 
was so wearied and sleepy with sitting 
lip almost two whole nights before, that 
he had no edge to it. Whereupon, Sir 
Francis Bacon adventured to entreat of 
his majesty that by this difference he 
Avould not, as it were, bury them quick ; 
and I hear, the king should answer, 
that then they must bury him quick, for 
he could last no longer, but withal gave 
them very good words, and appointed 
them to come again on Salurda)-. But 
the grace of their masque is quite gone, 
when their apparel hath been already 
showed, and their devices vented, so 
that how it will fall out God knows, 
for they are much discouraged and out 
of countenance, and the world says it 
comes to pass after the old proverb, the 
properer man the worse luck. 

One thing I had almost forgotten, 
that all this time, there was a course 
taken, and so notified that no lady or 
gentleman should be admitted to any of 
these sights with a vardingale, which 
was to gain the more room, and I hope 
may serve to make them quite left off 
in time. And yet there were more 
scaffolds, and more provisions made for 
room than ever I saw, both in the hall 
and banqueting room, besides a new 
room built to dine and dance in. 

John Chambe?-lain Esq. to Sir Dud- 
ley Carletoti. 

London, February 25, 161 2-13. 

The King went away on Monday to 



Theobalds, and so towards Royston and 
Newmarket, whence he is not expected 
till the 23nd of March. The Prince 
and Count Palatine follow him this day, 
and mean the next week to visit Cam- 
bridge. And there is speech that be- 
fore Easter-day they will make a prog- 
ress to Oxford, which will be a good 
errand for the young married gentle- 
man, whose friends and followers wish 
he might oftener have occasion to visit 
his uncle. All well-affected people 
take great pleasure and contentment in 
this match, as being a firm foundation 
and establishing of religion, which, 
upon what ground I know not, was 
before suspected to be en branh., and 
the Roman Catholics malign it as much 
as being the ruin of their hopes. The 
queen, likewise, is well come about, 
and graces it all she can, and seems to 
take special comfort in him. 

Yesterday was the great christening 
of the Earl of Salisbury's daughter, in 
the chapel at court, whence the queen, 
Prince Palatine, Lady Elizabeth's high- 
ness, and all the company conveyed 
it home, and went by water to the 
banquet. 

Our revels and triumphs within doors 
gave great contentment, being Doth 
dainty and curious in devices and sump- 
tuous in show, especially the inns of 
court, whose tvi'O masques stood them 
in better than £4,000, besides the gal- 
lantry and expense of private gentle- 
men that were but ante ambulores, and 
went only to accompany them. And 
our Gray's Inn men and the Inner 
Templars were nothing discouraged, 
for all the first dodge, but on Saturday 
last performed their parts exceeding 
well and with great applause and ap- 
probation, both from the king and all 
the company. The next night, the 
king invited the masquers, with their 
assistants, to the number of forty, to 
a solemn supper in the new marriage- 



54 



James I. 



room, \vhere they were well treated 
and much graced with kissing her 
majesty's hand, and every one having 
a particular accoglienza from him. 
The king husbanded the matter so well 
that this feast was not at his own cost, 
but he and his company won it upon 
a wager of running at the ring, of the 
prince and his nine followers, who paid 
£30 a man. The king, queen, prince. 
Count Palatine and Lady Elizabeth 
sat at table by themselves, and the 
great lords and ladies, with the mas- 
quers, above four score in all, sat at 
another long table, so that there was 
no room for them that made the feast, 
but they were fain to be lookers-on, 
which the young Lady Rich took no 
great pleasure in, to see her husband, 
who was one that paid, not so much 
as drink for his mone}'. 

Extracts from Letters to the Rev. 
Joseph Mead. (In Court and Times 
of James I. Vol. IL p. 252.) 

London, May 4th, 1621. 

. . . On Tuesday, Floyd, a coun- 
cillor, steward, and receiver in Shrop- 
shire . . . was censured to ride thrice 
with papers, and stand in the pillory, 
and first at Westminster, for saying, 
" Goodman Palsgrave, and goody Pals- 
grave, may, or must go pack their chil- 
dren at their backs, and beg." On 
Wednesday should have been the first 
time, but his majesty stayed it. 

Yesterday, the king and the House 
met. His majesty thanked them for 
the care they had of his son-in-law's, 
daughter's, and grandchildren's honour. 
If it were in them to censure his pris- 
oner, the censure should be executed ; 
otherwise, there should be a punish- 
ment equivalent to that they had set 
down. Which gave good content. . . . 

June I, 162 1. 
On Saturday last, the lords of the 



Upper House added unto Floyd's cen- 
sure, formerly passed in the Lower 
House. On Monday, he received part 
of his punishment; for he rode from 
Fleet Bridge to the Standard in Cheap- 
side ; his face towards the horse's tail, 
and papers about his hat, bearing this 
inscription, " For using ignominious and 
despiteful behaviour, reproachful and 
malicious words against the Prince and 
Princess Palatine, the king' s only daugh- 
ter and children." There he stood twc> 
hours on the pillory, when he had the K 
branded on his forehead, and was con- 
veyed to the fleet. To-day he shall 
have rid thence to Westminster Palace, 
there to have stood two hours also on 
the pillory ; thence to have been 
whipped to Newgate, there to lemain 
in perpetual imprisonment, fined in. 
£5,000, and never to bear arms, or 
come in company of gentle or honest 
men. But yester evening, it was gen- 
erally said, the prince had begged of 
the House the release of this day's pun- 
ishment, and of the king his fine. But 
whether true or not, I yet know not. 

Jan. I ith. 
. . . The same day, his majesty rode 
by coach to Theobald's to dinner. . . . 
After dinner, riding on horseback 
abroad, his horse stumbled, and cast 
his majesty into the New River, where 
the ice broke ; he fell in so far, that 
nothing but his boots were seen. Sir 
Richard Young was next, who alighted, 
went into the river, and lifted him out. 
There came much water out of his 
mouth and body. 

i\Ir. Tho7nas Locke to Sir Dudley 
Carleton. 

Jan. 12, 1621-2. 
... A servant to one Mr. Byng, a 
counsellor, is deeply questioned for 
saying, that there would be a rebellion, 
or to that effect. He hath been upon the 
rack, and they say it will cost him his life. 



J 



ames 



I. 



55 



GROUP VIIL 



THE SPANISH MARRIAGE-PROJECT. 



Extracts from Private Letters. (In 
Court and Times of James I. Ed. by 
author of Sophia Dorothea. London, 
1 848.) 

Rev. yoseph JMcad to Sir JSIartin 
Stiiteville. 

Christ College, March i, 1632-3. 

When I wrote my last, I was not 
then fully persuaded of the prince's 
[Charles L] going to Spain, though 
the report w^ere frequent, from London. 
But, within an hour after, I believed 
it ; but it was too late to open my 
letter again, being sealed and sent. 
The news enclosed would fain hope 
that he is gone some whither else than 
to Spain ; but they have, that hope so, 
no ground but desire. The persuasion 
of most is otherwise. 

It was something strange, that, when 
the prince desired to go so concealedly, 
it should be publicly revealed and 
talked, even by the court, before, 
almost, he was out of the land. Sure 
I am that at London it came to town 
on Tuesday night, and was general all 
Wednesday, the morning of which day 
he took ship. . . . How could it come 
from Dover to London so soon ? or how 
could they discovei; they were for Spain ? 

I shall not need tell you how we en- 
tertained the ambassadors of Spain and 
Brussels . . . how our doctors pledged 
healths to the infanta and the arch- 
duchess ; and, if any left too big a 
snuff ["heeltaps"] Columbo would 
cry, " Siipemaciilunil Siipernacu- 
hii?i!" . . . 

yo/iii Chamberlain to Dudley 
Carleton. 

London, March 8, 1622-3. 
We have little certainty of the prince's 
journey since his going hence, but only 



that they landed at Boulogne the 
Wednesday, and rode three posts that 
saine night. On Friday they came to 
Paris, very weary ; and, resting there 
all Saturday, went away early on Sun- 
day morning. Some give out, that 
during their abode there they saw the 
king at supper, and the queen practis- 
ing a ball with divers other ladies, 
which, though it be somewhat con- 
fidently affirmed, yet I think it not 
probable, by reason it was their first 
Saturday in Lent. . . . Divers of their 
servants and followers are gone after 
them by land, and more preparing to 
go by sea. . . . 

To the Rev. JosepJi A/cad. 
London, March 14th, 1632-3. 
The prince and my lord marquis 
came well through the greater part of 
France, to and from Bordeaux, though 
not unknown, and were offered great 
honor. . . . The Lords Andover, 
Vaughan, and Kensington went hence 
also twelve days ago that way overland 
for Spain. The beginning of next week 
there go likewise hence about 300 per- 
sons more, of nobles, knights, gentle- 
men and others, towards Portsmouth, 
there to embark in two ships . . . 
and afterwards to ride overland to 
Madrid. . . . Two days ago came 
Count Mansfield's secretary hither, and 
rode the second and last time, to present 
his master's service to our sovereign. 
But alas ! our hands are now bound by 
the absence of our most precious jewel. 

Rev. yoseph Alead to Sir Alar tin 

Stuteville. 

Christ College, Mar. 15th, 1632-3. 
. . . The King heard our comedy 
on Wednesday, but expressed no re- 



56 



James I. 



markable mirth thereat. He laughed 
once or twice towards the end. At 
dinner, before the comedy, their talk 
hi the presence was, as I heard, most 
of the prince. One present tells me, 
that he heard the king say, he hoped 
he would bring the lady with him. . . . 
On Monday last. Dr. Man and Dr. 
Wren had their despatch at New- 
mai-ket for Spain. They also asked 
the King's advice what they should do, 
if they chanced to meet the host car- 
ried in the streets as the manner is ; 
who answered, that they should avoid 
to meet it if they could : if not, they 
must do as they did there and so give 
no scandal. But I suppose they ex- 
pected another answer, for a better 
privilege, as being his son's chaplains; 
but it is a hard case. 

John Cha7nberlain to Dudley 
Carleton. 
London, March 3ist, 1633-3. 

. . . For want of other matter, I 
send you here certain verses made ujjon 
Jack's and Tom's journey; for the 
prince and marquis went through Kent 
under the names of Jack and Tom 
Smith. They [the verses] were fath- 
ered first upon the king, but, I hear 
since, they were only corrected and 
amended by him. The other paper is 
but a toy, touching the great loss of 
the library at Heidelberg. . . . The 
last news we heard of the prince came 
this day sevennight from Walsingham 
Greisley . . . who met them the 3nd 
of this month, almost a day's journey 
within France. ... It seems . . . 
that things are not so forward and ripe 
there [in Spain] as we take them. 
But what this noble ingenuitj- and con- 
fidence to commit and cast himself into 
their hands may work, is uncertain. 
. . . The young Lord Compton hath 
charge of the jewels that are to be sent 
and presented ; which are the choice of 



all in the Tower, and estimated at 
£300,000; but, by the more moderate, 
at £80,000. There is a continual 
posting, likewise, through France, 
which, together with the expense that 
the others must make from the sea-side 
to Madrid, will so exhaust our coin, 
that is so scant already, that it is feared 
we shall be driven to use black moneys, 
as they call it, and is now in a manner 
altogether current in Spain. And wise 
men stick not to say that this match, 
one way or other, will stand the king 
and kingdom in as much as she is like 
to bring, besides whatsoever else may 
like to happen. Many of our church- 
men are hardly held in, and their 
tongues itch to be talking. . . . On 
Sunday last, in the parish church next 
to us, one went so far, that the parson 
of the church caused the clerk to sing 
him down with a psalm, before he had 
half done. 

A Letter from Spai)i. 

March 1S-3S, 1623-3. 

You shall understand that the prince 
and marquis arrived here under the 
names of Brown and Smith, upon the 
17th day of this present month. It 
was presently blazed abroad, and the 
second day after, the king brought out 
his sister, in great state, to be seen of 
the prince; and, late at night, the king 
and he had a private meeting in the 
fields, hard by the town. He lay ten 
days at my Lord of Bristol's house, 
and yesterday he made a most stately 
and magnificent entry into the king's 
palace, under a most rich cloth of state. 
The king himself, with all the guards 
and councils, came to accompany him, 
and it was decreed by the council of 
State, that the King should give him 
the hand at all meetings. 

He went in the same form and state 
that the Kings of Spain do at their 
coronation. It is beyond imagination, 



James I. 



57 



to think what shouts and acclamations 
of joy ran amongst the people, crying, 
"Vive el Princesse d' Ingilterra ! " 
He is now in the palace, attended by 
Spaniards, and they are noblemen : his 
table is served with flesh, though in 
Lent. There was a day of triumphs, 
and running at the ring appointed, 
which was not well performed by the 
Spanish courtiers in taking the same, 
but was often missed. But the prince, 
taking his horse and spear in hand, did 
run at the ring, and at first took it, and 
laid it down, and run no more at that 
time; which caused great admiration. 
The king, at his first entry into the 
palace, congratulated his welcome with 
the gift of all offices falling in the time 
of his residence in Spain. 

In the king's house, about 300 pris- 
oners, some of them for very enormous 
crimes committed, were freed ; and 
there is order given to release any 
English, Irish, or Scottish galley-slaves 
throughout all Spain. There is another 
order come out, that no man shall 
scandalize or abuse any man about 
matters of religion. Likewise, the 
reformation of ruffs, gold and silver 
lace, is recalled, and both men and 
women may wear what they list, whilst 
the prince is here. . . . We hope all mat- 
ters will be here absolutely concluded 
by Michaelmas, and the prince and his 
equipage to sail home with his new wife. 

To the Rev. Joseph Mead. 

London, March 28, 1623. 
The prince's highness, the 7th of this 
present . . . came with the lord mai"- 
quis [Buckingham], to the Earl of 
Bristol's house, at Madrid. . . . The 
next morning, before they were up, the 
king sent his favourite to welcome the 
marquis, who, with the prince, pres- 
ently arose ; but yet, before they could 
be ready to admit the favourite, the 
king himself was come. Great was 



the joy at meeting, and the king said, 
though it were Lent, it should not be 
Lent to him ; but he should have all 
that he would, and the country could 
afford. Yea, and the better to express 
his affection, he desired the prince to 
tell him wherein he should chiefly 
pleasure him the first day ; who an- 
swered, in letting him see his mistress, 
for whose sake he had undertaken so 
long, wearisome and dangerous a jour- 
ney. The king promised, sent pres- 
ently for her to meet him in coach on a 
plain. Abroad they go; the prince 
with the king in his coach (which 
made the people wonder what stranger 
it should be) ; the marquis in the fa- 
vourite's coach. The Lady Mary came 
to the place appointed, and stood with 
her coach abreast the king's. The 
king bade her unmask, because he 
would talk with her. She unmasks ; 
they talk. The prince sees her, and 
she him ; but they spake not together. 
Then they parted, and the king brought 
the prince back ; by which time the 
rumour was spread abroad that it was 
the prince. The people so flocked and 
thronged to see him, that the coaches 
could hardly pass. . . . The prince, as 
is said, saw the lady three times, in 
manner as at first, but still without 
speaking to her. . . . 

To the Rev. Joseph Mead. 

London, Apr. 4th, 1623. 
On Tuesday night last, our bells 
rung merrily, and our streets glittered 
with bon-fires, for joy of the prince's 
safe coming to the Spanish court, and 
his wonderful, great, and royal enter- 
tainment there. The prince, from 
Paris to Madrid, being about 750 
miles, in thirteen days ; which was 
near upon sixty miles, one day with 
another. The last Sunday came Mr. 
Grimes, of the prince's bedchamber, 
hither in fifteen days from Spain. . . . 



58 



James I. 



To the Same. 
London, April nth, 1623. 
With the first and last ships, there 
went, amongst others of the prince's 
servants, eight of his footmen ; with 
three more to go now, viz., the George, 
of the king's, that goes to fetch back 
the marquis, and two hired ships, to 
carry eight great tilting horses and fair 
ambling geldings, of the prince's; 
there go twenty-two more of his foot- 
men, which, with the former eight, 
make thirty, the very apparrelling of 
which stands in £3,000. 

Jok?i Chamberlain to Sir Dudley 
Carleton. 

London, April 19th, 1623. 

. . . Sir John Wentworth ... is 
lately become a Roman Catholic, for- 
sooth, as likewise the Lord Vaughan, 
the prince's comptroller, who never 
discovered himself till now, and it is 
likely, at the infanta's coming, we shall 
have many more fall away as fast as 
withered leaves in autumn. . . . Let 
men think and talk what they will, the 
king knows more than we all, and is 
very confident of the success, and joys 
much to talk of the prince's journey. 

May 3rd. 

. . . Now for the infanta's part: it 
is said she is to have £S,qoo jointure 
for every £100,000 she is to bring, 
which, being given out to be £600,000, 
it will make a great breach into the 
crown land, which hath been so much 
weakened already, and this must be 
confirmed by Parliament ; with divers 
other prerogatives and privileges she is 
to have more than ever Qiieen of Eng- 
land had. . . . The fleet is preparing 
with all speed, and the prince's ship so 
richly furnished with all manner of 
bedding, hangings, and the like, as hath 



not been seen at sea ; and all things are 
so carried, as if we were to receive 
some goddess to come among us. . . . 

Hev. Joseph ATead to Sir Alartin 
Stuteville. 
Christ College, May 24, 1623. 

. . . All the prince's servants, chap- 
lains, and all, are said to be coming 
back, as having not only no employ- 
ment, but no permission to come at 
their master. That an inhibition from, 
our king is given to all the English in 
Spain, merchants and others, not to 
write anything into England to their 
friends about the prince and his affairs. 

My Lord Hay is returned, but tells 
nothing, save only, that because he 
would not lose his journey into Spain, 
he made means to be honoured so 
much as but to see the infanta, and kiss 
her hand afore his return for England ; 
which, with much difficulty and im- 
portunity, he at length obtained, and 
was brought into a room, where she 
was placed in a throne aloft, divers 
steps from the ground, and gloriously 
set forth, with her ladies about her. 
But my lord, with his complimental 
motions and approaches, could not 
draw^ so much froin her as the least 
nod or inclination of her body ; no, not 
when he ascended up the steps unto 
her, so much as to put out her hand to 
him, when he u'as to kiss it ; she re- 
maining all the while as immoveable 
as the image of the Virgin Mary, when 
suppliants bow to her on festival days. 
This, they say, is the Spanish state. 
He complimented with her, but what 
she answered is not told. This I had 
from Dr. Balcanqual's brother, and he 
from him. 

May 30th, 1623. 

. . . The Lord Leppington landed 
this week, and hath brought back all, 
or most part of the prince's servants 



James I. 



59 



that were sent after him. They have 
had the pleasure of going and coming 
back from Spain by sea ; for I hear of 
few or none but himself that went to 
Madrid. . . . 

In the mean time some mutter that 
we presume much upon the Spaniard ; 
that we trust him with our only prince, 
the principal and richest jewel of the 
crown, and the best part of our navy, 
all at once ; besides so many other men 
of woi'th. . . . We look daily to hear 
the solemnization of the marriage. 
The Lord Rochford is to bring the 
news of the time appointed. . . . 

London, June 14th. 
Till yesterday we had no news out 
of Spain this month or five weeks. . . . 
But now Sir Francis Cottington and 
Greisley are come together ; but we 
say they have a caveat to divulge noth- 
ing. Yet the world doth guess there is 
some difficult point that doth require 
Cottington' s coming to the oracle. . . . 
It should seem matters are not alto- 
gether so forward as we expected. 

Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Alartin 
Stuteville. 

Christ College, June 21, 1623. 

. . . God send our prince home 
again : for the forenamed Mr. Elliot 
told, sub sigillo, some suspicious pas- 
sages, as that the prince darest not 
farther them, by intimation afar off, to 
express his desire or will to be gone, 
as fearing to be denied ; but passeth all 
by compliments and such like. 

The lord marquis, as is talked, hath 
had in the Spanish court some check 
of late, for forgetting himself so far as 
to intimate a dislike of the slowness of 
their despatch : whereupon Olivares 
was sent to the prince to tell him, that 
the lord marquis must consider how 
great a prince the King of Spain was 
when he came to speak into his pres- 



ence. Mr. Wren hath also this pas- 
sage : " There is no such matter here as 
you talk in England, that the marriage 
should be finished ; for there is not yet 
so much as a match concluded." 

To the Rev. Joseph Mead. 

London, June 20th, 1623. 
. . . The prince had on Saturday 
before received a peremptory answer, 
that the lady might not be married till 
after Easter next. It was therefore in 
his highness' s choice to stay there till 
then, and so take her away with him, 
or return home again. And the next 
day after, his highness, the second 
time, had speech with her since the first 
time, on their Easter or our Palm Sun- 
day, which is strange wooing. . . . 

Rev. Joseph JMead to Sir Martin 
Stuteville. 

Christ College, Oct. 11, 1623. 
I shall not need to tell you the prince 
is come and at Royston. The news 
came to our vice-chancellor on Monday 
forenoon. Our bells rung all that day, 
and the town made bonfires at night. 
Tuesday, the bells continued ringing. 
Every college had a speech, and one 
dish more at supper, and bonfires and 
squibs in their courts ; the townsmen 
still continuing to warm their streets 
in every corner, also, with bonfires, 
lest they should not be merry when 
we were. . . . We hear nothing of the 
match at all, but yet we are sure yet 
the infanta is not come. 

Oct. 24, 1623. 
Our fleet should have wintered at 
Portsmouth, with express terms to have 
been the readier at the spring, to have 
gone to fetch the lady infanta. . . . 
But before that order came, the fleet 
was gone from thence, and is now, 
two days ago, come to Chatham, I 



6o 



James I. 



believe. Not yet that Spain intends 
any match, or ever did, nor, I hope, do 
we now. . . . 



JoJni Chamberlaiti to 
Carleto7i. 



Sir Dudley 



London, Oct. 35tli, 1633. 
. . . Our courtiers, and others, tliat 
were in Spain, begin now to open 
their mouths, and spealc liberally of the 
coarse usage and entertainment, where 
they found nothing but penury and 
proud beggary, besides all other dis- 
courtesy ; insomuch, that even the 
Romish Catholics complain of Gondo- 
mar, who was their idol here, that he 
used them as bad as the rest. And this 
journey hath wrought one unexpected 
effect, that whereas it was thought the 
Spaniards and we should piece and grow 
together, it seems we are generally more 
disjointed and further asunder in affec- 
tions than ever. Besides the good it hath 
done in religion, by laying open their 
gross ignorance and superstition. . . . 

To the Rev. Joseph Mead. 

London, Nov. 21, 1623. 
. . . The prince, whilst he was in 
Spain, was so well entertained by the 
king and his confessor, that both called 
him heretic to his face, which he bravely 
disproved, and being granted to see 
a church in Madrid, though he entered 
bareheaded, yet, because he would not 
bow down to the host, where they said 
Christ was, they forced him again out 



of the church, and if he had made the 
lesser haste back, they would have 
thrust him out by head and shoulders. 
This and much more the prince told 
Dean White on Sunday night, as he 
since told me. . . . 

JoJin Chamberlain to Sir Dudley 
Carleton. 

London, Feb. 32nd, 1623-4. 

The king went to the parliament on 
Thursday, with greater show and pomp 
than I have seen to my remembrance. 
I was so much and so many ways 
invited, that I could not refuse to go ; 
and, to say the truth, I went specially 
to see the prince, who indeed is grown 
a fine gentleman, and beyond all expec- 
tation I had of him when I saw him 
last, which was not these seven years ; 
and, indeed, I think he never looked 
nor became himself better in all his life. 
The king made a very gracious and 
plausible speech, confessed he had been 
deluded in the treaty of the match ; but 
referring it now wholly to their con- 
sideration, whether it should go forward 
or no. . . . 

July I, 1634. 

. . . Somebody is come out of Spain 
with no pleasing news, and, they say, 
brought back the prince's letter to the 

infanta, unopened The Mary 

Rose, a ship of the king's, is making 
ready for Spain, to fetch the jewels 
re-delivered to our ambassador. 





y^'l 



f/\ 



^ // 



':^'6: 



//r 



v" 



Charles I, 



6i 



GROUP IX. 



CHARLES I. AND HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE. 



I . Letter of Lord Kensington to 
Prince Charles. (In Harris, Charles 
I., London, 1S14, p. 25.) 

Paris, Feb. 36, 1634-5. 
. . . Sir, if your intentions proceed 
this way, as by many reasons of state 
and wisdom, (there is cause now rather 
to press it, than slacken it) you will 
find a lady of as much loveliness and 
sweetness to deserve your affection, as 
any creature under heaven can do. 
And, Sir, by all her fashions since iny 
being here, and by what I hear from 
the ladies, it is most visible to me, her 
infinite value, and respect unto you. 
Sir, I say not this to betray your belief, 
but from a true observation, and knowl- 
edge of this to be so : I tell you this, 
and must somewhat more, in -way of 
admiration of the person of madam ; 
for the impressions I had of her were 
but ordinary, but the amazement ex- 
ti'aordinary, to find her, as I protest 
before God I did, the sweetest creature 
in France. Her growth is very little 
short of her age (15), and her wisdom 
infinitely beyond it. I heard her dis- 
course with her mother, and the ladies 
about her with extraordinary discre- 
tion and quickness. She dances (the 
which I am a witness of) as well as 
ever I saw any creature. They say she 
sings most sweetly ; I am sure she 
looks so. 

3. Extracts from Private Letters. 
(Court and Times of Charles I., Vol. 

I-) 

JoJin Chamberlain to Sir Dudley 
Carleton. 
London, April 33rd, 1625. 
. . . The French match is said to be 
in gieat forwardness, and to be cele- 
brated to-morrow. . . . 



May 6th. 

. . . The Jiancailles were performed 
on Thursday, being their ascension, and 
the marriage on Sunday last, our May- 
day. We had notice of the former on 
Saturday night, and on Wednesday 
evening we had bells and bonfires in 
abundance upon news of the latter. 
The bride is to set forward on Thurs- 
day next. . . . Here is great prepa- 
ration for shows and pageants, yet it is 
thought the coronation will not be till 
October, specially if the sickness in- 
crease. . . . 

May 28th. 

... I was minded to send a list of 
the Ladies that are appointed to meet 
the queen at Dover : but it varies and 
alters so often, that it were to no pur- 
pose. Their number is about four or 
five and twenty : all their coaches fur- 
nished ^vith six horses, which comes 
altogether now in fashion ; a vanity of 
excessive charge, and of little use. 

Dr. ]\Ieddus to Rev. Josepli Mead. 
London, June 17th, 1625. 
The last night, at five o'clock, (there 
being a very great shower) the king 
and queen, in the roj'al barge, with 
many other barges of honour, and 
thousands of boats, passed through 
London bridge to Whitehall ; infinite 
numbers, besides those in wherries, 
standing in houses, ships, lighters, 
western barges ; and on each side of 
the shore fifty good ships discharging 
their ordnance as their majesties passed 
along by, as, last of all, the Tower 
did — such a peel as, I believe, she 
never before heard the like. The king 
and queen were both in green suits. 
The barge windows, notwithstanding 
the vehement shower, were open, and 



62 



Charles I. 



all the people shouting amain. She 
hath already given some good signs of 
hope that she may ere long, by God's 
blessing, become ours in religion. 

She arrived at Dover on Sunday, 
about eight in the evening, lay there in 
the castle that night, vv'hither the king 
rode on Monday morning from Canter- 
bury, came thither after ten of the 
clock, and she being at meat, he stayed 
in the presence till she had done, which 
she advertised of, made short work, 
rose, went unto him, kneeled down at 
his feet, took and kissed his hand. 
The king took her up in his arms, 
kissed her, and talking with her, cast 
down his eyes towards her feet (she, 
seeming higher than report was, reach- 
ing to his shoulder) , which she soon 
perceiving, discovered and showed him 
her shoes, saying to this effect: "Sir, 
I stand upon mine own feet ; I have no 
helps by art. Thus high I am and am 
neither higher nor lower." She is 
nimble and quick, black eyed, brown 
haired, and, in a word, a brave lady, 
though perhaps a little touched with 
the green sickness. . . . 

The bells rung till midnight, and all 
the streets were full of bonfires, and in 
this one street were above thirty. 

June 34th. 

Last Sunday, the queen and hers 
. . . were at high mass. . . . The 
chapel goes on again. She had twenty- 
nine priests, fourteen of them Thea- 
tines, and fifteen seculars, besides a 
bishop, a young man under thirty years 
old. 

Extract frotn atiothcr letter, same 
date. 

The priests have been very importu- 
nate to have the chapel finished at St. 
Jaines's, but they find the king very 
slow in doing that. His answer (some 
told me) was, that if the queen's closet 



where they now say inass, were not 
large enough, let them have it in the 
great chamber ; and if the great cham- 
ber was not wide enough, they inight 
use the garden ; and if the garden 
would not serve their turn, then was 
the park the fittest place. So, seeing 
themselves slighted, they grow weary 
of England, and wish themselves at 
home again. Besides, unto the king's 
devotions they cannot add, nor with all 
their stratagems can bring him in the 
least love with their fopperies. . . . 

John Chafnberlain to Sir Dudley 
Carleton . 

June 35th. 

. . . The queen hath brought, they 
say, such a poor, pitiful sort of women, 
that there is not one worth the looking 
after, saving herself and the Duchess 
of Chevreuse, who though she be fair, 
yet paints foully. 

They (the parliament) begin to mut- 
ter about matters of religion, that the 
king promised them, when he was 
prince, that he would never contract a 
marriage with conditions derogatory to 
that we profess. . . . Some spare not 
to say that all goes backward since this 
connivance in religion came in, both in 
our wealth, honour, valour, and reputa- 
tion, and that it is visibly seen God 
blesses nothing that we take in hand. 

Extract from the Autobiography of 
Sir Simonds d' Ezves. (London, 

1845. Vol. I. p. 2'/2.) 

1625. 

On Thursday, the 30th and last day 
of this instant June, I went to White- 
hall purposely to see the Qiieen ; which 
I did fully all the time she sat at din- 
ner, and perceived her to be a most ab- 
solute delicate lady, after I had exactly 
surveyed all the features of her face, 
much enlivened by her radiant and 
sparkling black eye. Besides, her de- 




-> (i.-'^-W,'-^ (J-rf'- 



Charles I. 



63 



portmeiit amongst her women was so 
sweet and humble, and her speech and 
looks to her other servants so mild and 
gracious, as I could not abstain from 
divers deep-fetched sighs to consider 
that she wanted the knowledge of the 
true religion. 

Rev. Joseph JSIead to Sir Martin 
Stuteville. 

July 3nd, 1635. 
. . . The friars so frequent the 
queen's private chamber that the king 
is much offended, and so told them, 
having (as it is said) granted them 
more than sufficient liberty in public. 
This Mr. Mordaunt writes to me, and, 
besides, that which follows: — "The 
queen," saith he, "howsoever little of 
stature, is of spirit and vigour, and 
seems of a more than ordinary resolu- 
tion. With one frown, divers of us 
being at Whitehall to see her being at 
dinner, and the room somewhat over- 
heated with the fire and company, she 
drove us all out of the chamber. I 
suppose none but a queen could have 
cast such a scowl." . . . 

Oct. 3rd, 1635. 

... I found a letter written to a 
friend of mine . . . from a brother of 
his, then at the court, at Tichfield, 
whose contents are as follows : 

"Tichfield, Hampshire, Sept. 34th. 
— On Sunday, the i8th of this instant, 
there preached at the queen's court, be- 
fore the officers Protestants, the minis- 
ter of that town. In the middle of his 
sermon, the queen, with her lord cham- 
berlain and ladies of honour, came 
through that congregation, and made 
such a noise, as was admired, inso- 
much that the preacher was at a stand, 
and demanded whether he might pro- 
ceed or no, but they still went on ; and 
they passed through the hall ^vhere the 
sermon was preaching, and went to the 



court gates, and before the sermon was 
ended returned the same way back 
again, with a greater noise and disorder 
than before. It is said, the queen was 
set on to do it by her bishop, confessor 
and priests. Upon the Tuesday fol- 
lowing, the minister, walking in his 
garden, was shot at with hail-shot, 
which did miss him miraculously, it 
alighting about him." . . . 

Oct. 8th. 
. . . Besides that pretty business of 
the preacher at Tichfield, Dr. Weemes 
tells me another like it, which happened 
while he was at court there, some weeks 
since, viz. : — That the king and queen 
dining together in the presence, Mr. 
Hacket being then to say grace, the 
confessor would have prevented him, 
but that Hacket shoved him away. 
Whereupon the confessor went to the 
queen's side, and was about to say 
grace again, but that the king, pulling 
the dishes unto him, and the carvers 
falling to their business, hindered. 
When the dinner was done, he thought, 
standing by the queen, to have been be- 
fore Mr. Hacket ; but Mr. Hacket again 
got the start. The confessor, never- 
theless, begins his grace as loud as Mr. 
Hacket, with such a confusion, that the 
king, in a great passion, instantly rose 
from the table, and, taking the queen by 
the hand, retired into the bedchamber. • 
Was not this a priestly discretion } 

Dec. 17th, 1635. 
. . . The king will keep his Christ- 
mas, they say, at Whitehall, and re- 
moves on Thursday. On Tuesday last, 
I am told, the queen was in the Ex- 
change, and went nimbly from shop 
to shop, and bought some knacks, till, 
being discovered, she made away with 
all the haste she could, and went that 
night to Hampton Court. This was 
a French trick, like to washing in the 
Thames last summer. 



64 



Charles I. 



Jan. 1 3th, 1625-6. 

The queen's servants, perceiving they 

were like to be discarded if they took 

not the oath of allegiance, have now, 

as I hear, all taken it saving the priests. 

To the Rev. Joseph Mead. 

Jan. 13th. 
. . . The same afternoon the queen 
was at the Tower, in her rich coach, 
with seven others — her confessor' s coach 
being foremost, and hers following next 
after — and returned by torchlight. . . . 

Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin 

Stuteville. 

Christ College, Feb. 4th, 1625-6, 

The coronation of the king was on 

Thursday (as passengers from London 

yesterday tell us), but private. The 

king went to Westminster Church by 

water; the queen was not crowned, 

but stood at a window in the meantime, 

looking on, and her ladies frisking and 

dancing in the room. 

March 4th. 

. . . On Tuesday, February 21st, 
the queen and her ladies acted a pas- 
toral before the king, wherein herself 
had the greatest part, and repeated, it 
is said, 600 French verses by heart. 

■ Mr. Porv to the Rev. Joseph Mead. 
July 1st, 1636. 
... On Monday, about three in the 
afternoon, the king, passing into the 
queen's side [of the palace], and find- 
ing some Prenchmen, her servants, un- 
•reverently dancing and curvetting in her 
.presence, took her by the hand, and 
■led her into his lodgings, locking the 
door after him, and shutting out all, 
saving only the Queen ; presently upon 
this my Lord Conway called forth the 
French bishop and others of that clergy 
into St. James's Park, where he told 
them, the king's pleasure was, all her 
majesty's servants of that nation, men 



and women, young and old, should 
depart the kingdom, together with the 
reasons that enforced his majesty so to 
do. The bishop said much upon it 
that, being in the nature of an ambas- 
sador, he could not go, unless the king 
his master should command him. But 
he was told again, that the king his 
master had nothing to do here in Eng- 
land ; and that, if he were unwilling 
to go, England would send force enough 
to convey him away hence. 

The bishop had as much reason to 
dance loth to depart, as the king and 
all his well-affected subjects had to send 
him packing; for he had as much 
power of conferring orders, and dis- 
pensing with sacraments, oaths, etc., 
as the pope could give ; and so, by 
consequence, was a most dangerous 
instrument to work the pope's ends 
here. 

The king's message being thus de- 
livered by my Lord Conv^'ay, his lord- 
ship, accompanied with Mr. Treasurer, 
and Mr. Comptroller, went into the 
Queen's lodgings, and told all the 
French likewise, that were there, that 
his majesty's pleasure was, they should 
all depart thence to Somerset House, 
and remain there till they knew fur- 
ther his majesty's pleasure. The 
women howled and lamented, as if 
they had been going to execution, but 
all in vain ; for the yeomen of the 
guard, by that lord's appointment, 
thrust them and all their country folks 
out of the queen's lodgings, and locked 
the doors after them. 

It is said also, the queen, when she 
understood the design, grew very im- 
patient, and broke the glass windows 
with her fist. But since, I hear, her 
rage is appeased, and the king and she, 
since they went together to Nonsuch, 
have been very jocund together. 

The same day, the French being all 
at Somerset House, the king, as I have 



Charles L 



65 



heard some affirm, went thither, and 
made a speech to them to this purpose : 
that he hoped the good liing, his 
brother of France, would not tal<e 
amiss what he had done , for the 
French he said, (particular persons he 
would tax) had occasioned many jars 
and discontents between the king and 
him; such, indeed, as longer were in- 
sufferable. He prayed them, therefore, 
to pardon him, if he sought his own 
ease and safety; and said, moi-eover, 
that he had given order to his treasurei 
to reward every one of them for their 
year's service. So the next morning, 
being Tuesday, there was distributed 
among them £11,000, in money, and 
about £20,000 worth of jewels 

Of this magnanimous act I think the 
king hath such satisfactory reasons, as 
will stop the mouths of all gain-sayers. 
One might be the extravagant power 
of this bishop, who, when he was last 
in France, suing to be a secretary of 
state, fell short of that, and so took in- 
structions from the pope's nuncio; 
which in case he could bring to effect, 
he was promised a cardinal's hat, which 
now lies in the dust. The rest of the 
clergy were the most superstitious, tur- 
bulent, and Jesuitical priests that could 
be found in all France, very fit to make 
firebrands of sedition in a foreign state ; 
so that his majesty, as long as he gave 
them entertainment, did but nourish so 
many vipers in his bosom. Nay, their 
insolences towards the queen were not 
to be endured ; for, besides that these 
knaves would, by way of confession, 
interrogate her how often the king had 
kissed her; and no longer ago than 
upon St. James' s-day last those hypo- 
critical dogs made the poor queen walk 
afoot (some add barefoot) from her 
house at St. James's to the gallows at 
Tyburn, thereby to honor the saint of 
the day in visiting that holy place, 
where so many martyrs, forsooth, had 



shed their blood in defence of the Cath- 
olic cause. Had they not also made 
her to dabble in the dirt, in a foul 
morning, from Somerset House to St. 
James's, her luciferian confessor riding 
along by her in his coach.* Yea, they 
have made her to go barefoot, to spin, 
to cut her meat out of dishes, to wait 
at the table, to serve her servants, with 
many other ridiculous and absurd pen- 
ances ; and if they dare thus insult over 
the daughter, sister, and wife of so great 
kings, what slavery would they not 
make us, the people to undergo? Be- 
sides all this, letters of some of the 
French about her majesty are said to 
have been intercepted, by which it hath 
appeared they have not only practised 
with the pope on one side and the 
English papists on the other side, but 
have had intelligence also with the 
Spaniard. 

It was intended they should have 
presently departed, but they are not yet 
gone, and Monday next is said to be 
peremptory day of their departure. 
Meanwhile, they took possession of all 
the queen's apparel and linen which 
they found at Somerset House, as being 
their vales (whether plate or jewels 
also I can not certainly tell) ; but the 
queen having left her but one gown 
and two smocks to her back, these 
French hooters were entreated by some 
of the lords of the council to send her 
majesty some apparel ; so they sent her 
only one old satin gown, keeping all 
the residue to themselves. Her master 



♦That Charles's provocation was pretty strong is 
evidenced by the tone of a letter to Buckingham : " 1 
command you to send all the French away to-morrow 
out of town, if you can, by fair means, but stick not 
long in di'^puting; otherwise force them away, driving 
them away like so many wild beasts, until you have 
shipped them, and so the devil go with them. Let me 
hear of no answer Out of the performance of my com- 
mand. So I rest your faithful, constant, loving friend, 

C. R." 

There were, according to a letter from Mr. Pory to 
Rev Joseph Mead (Aug. 1 1, 1626), no less than 440 of 
llitse amiable attendants.— Ed. 



66 



Charles I. 



of the horse, likewise, the Count de 
Lepieres, laid claim to all the horses 
and furniture under his charge ; but in 
vain. It is hoped, after they are gone, 
the queen will by degrees find the 
sweetness of liberty, in being exempted 
from those beggarly rudiments of 
popish penance. . . . 

To the Rev. Joseph JMead. 

London, July 21, 1626. 

We hear of a falling out between the 
king and queen for her going in a kind 
of devotion to visit that holy place of 
Tyburn. This can those damned priests 
about her make her do. 

Aug. I r . 

Since my last, you shall understand, 
that Monday last were attending at 
Somerset House thirty coaches, and 
fifty carts, to have, after dinner, carried 
the French and their goods away. . . . 
They would not depart, till they were 
disengaged of moneys they stood en- 
gaged for, for the queen : as one bill of 
£4,000 for necessaries of the queen ; a 
second was the apothecary's bill of 
£800, for drugs ; and the third of the 
bishop's . . . of £1,500, for his (un)- 
holy water. . . . 

• Aug. 17th. 

. . . They were very sullen at their 
first setting out from hence ; but their 
kind entertainment by the way made 
them more tame by that time they came 
to Dover. A fellow there threw a 
stone at Madame St. George, as she 



was newly entered the boat ; where- 
upon an English knight that sat next 
her stepped on shore and gave the fel- 
low a wound, which cost him his life. 
The bishop being come to Rochester, 
met there his commission from the 
French king to ordain him ambassador, 
notice whereof he presently sent his maj- 
esty ; but the king utterly rejected him, 
saying he had done so many wrongs, as 
he should never see his face more. 



Description of Qiieen Henrietta Maria 
in 1642. (From Memoirs of Sophia 
of the Palatinate. Translated by For- 
rester.) 

The exquisite portraits of Van Dyck 
had given me [The future Electress 
was a little girl of nine at this time] 
such an exalted idea of all the English 
ladies that I was surprised to find the 
queen, whom I had thought so beauti- 
ful on canvas, to be a little woman, 
with long, scraggly arms, shoulders 
uneven and teeth like fortifications pro- 
jecting from her mouth. All the same, 
after looking at her well, I found her 
eyes very lovely, her nose well-shaped 
and her complexion admirable. She 
did me the honor of saying that she 
thought I looked a little like her daugh- 
ter, which pleased me so much that 
after that I really did find her beautiful. 
I overheard the English milords say 
that when 1 grew up I would eclipse 
all my sisters and this gave me an affec- 
tion for the whole nation, so pleasant 
it is to be admired when one is young. 



Charles I. 



(^1 



GROUP X. 



PARLIAMENTARY GRIEVANCES AGAINST CHARLES 1. 



I. Extracts from the Autobiography 
of Sir Simonds d'Ewes (London, 
1S45.) 

1625. 

. . . The present parliament, which 
had been adjourned or prorogued on 
July the nth, at London, to begin 
again at Oxford on August the ist, 
was now suddenly and unexpectedly 
dissolved, to the great grief of all good 
subjects that loved true religion, their 
king, and the Commonwealth. For 
this, being the first Parliament of our 
royal Charles, should have been an 
happy occasion and means to have 
united and settled the affections of 
Prince and people, in a firm concord 
and correspondence. The Duke of 
Buckingham, a most unfortunate man, 
being now questioned for sundry par- 
ticulars, would rather hazard the final 
overthrow of the public, than endeavour 
to purge himself and justify his actions 
by a speedy and humble defence. And 
a happy moderation doubtless it had 
been in the House of Commons, if at 
that meeting they had winked at the 
Duke's errors and fallen upon the con- 
sideration of man)' particulars in Church 
and Commonwealth, which more needed 
their help and assistance. But what 
the Divine Providence hath decreed 
must come to pass. 



2. Extracts from Whitelocke's Me- 
morials. (Oxford, 1S53. Vol. L) 
[Whitelocke was a member of Parlia- 
ment.] 

1626. 

The king finding the discontents of 
his subjects increased, thought fit to 
call another parliament. . . . 

The commons began to fall upon the 
public grievances ; the miscarriage of 



the late voyage to Cadiz ; the misem- 
ployment of the king's revenue; evil 
counsels; favouring of papists; the 
loans, taxes, and many other, which 
they referred to committees. 

The privy council required the bishop 
of Durham to apprehend such of his 
majestv's subjects as should be pres- 
ent at mass, and to commit them to 
prison. . . . 

The king by message and the lords 
press the commons for supplies. . . . 

Mr. Clement Coke, in his speech in 
the house of commons concerning griev- 
ances, said, that it were better to die by 
an enemy than to suffer at home. . . . 

The king sent a smart letter to the 
speaker, pressing for present supplies ; 
and promising redress of grievances 
presented in a dutiful and mannerly 
way. . . . 

To this the commons returned a gen- 
eral answer, promising a supply : the 
king replied, as to the clause of pre- 
senting grievances, that they should 
apply themselves to redress grievances, 
not to enquire after them. And said, 
" I will not allow any of my servants 
to be questioned among you, much less 
such as are of eminent place, and near 
unto me. I see you especially aim at 
the duke [Buckingham] : I wonder 
who hath so altered your affections 
towards him." 

Then he . . . concludes, " I would 
you would hasten for my suppl}', or 
else it will be worse for yourselves ; for 
if any evil happen, I think I shall be 
the last that shall feel it. . . . 

Sir John Elliot made a bold and 
sharp speech against the duke, and 
present grievances : yet in the midst of 
those agitations, the commons remem- 
bered the king's necessities, and voted 



68 



Charles I. 



to grant three subsidies and three 
fifteens. . . . 

The king . . . mentioned Mr. Coke, 
and said, it was better for a king to be 
invaded and ahnost destroyed, by a 
foreign power, than to be despised by 
his own subjects. And bids them re- 
member, that the calling, sitting and 
dissolving of parliaments was in his 
power. . . . 

At a conference with the lords, the 
commons sent vip an impeachment 
against the duke of Bucks [B.icking- 
ham], managed by eight of their mem- 
bers. Sir Dudley Digges made an 
eloquent introduction, comparing Eng- 
land to the world, the commons to the 
earth and sea, the king to the sun, the 
lords to the planets, the clergy to 
the fire, the judges and magistrates to 
the air, the duke of Bucks to a blazing 
star. 

The articles were I. The sale of offices 
and multiplicity of great offices in the 
duke. II. His buying the office of ad- 
miral. . . . IV. The neglect of the 
duty and trust of his office of admiral, 
whereby pirates infested our coasts and 
trade decayed. . . . These were ag- 
gravated by Mr. Pym. XII. His em- 
bezzling the king's money, and pro- 
curing grants to himself of crown lands 
of a gi-eat value. Upon this Mr. Sher- 
land enlarged, and computed the sum 
of his gifts to £284,39^. XIII. The 
plaster and potions which the duke 
caused to be given to king James in 
his sickness, a transcendent presump- 
tion of a dangerous consequence. 

This was aggravated by Mr. Wands- 
ford, and sir John Elliot made the Epi- 
logue to the impeachment. 

Sir Dudley Diggs and sir John Elliot 
were committed to the tower ; and the 
king came to the lords' house, and told 
them of it : and that he could clear 
Bucks of every one of the matters 
whereof he was accused. . . . 



The commons, upon commitment of 
their members, caused the door of the 
house to be shut, and would not pro- 
ceed in any other business till they were 
righted in their liberties. 

Whereupon sir Dudley Carleton in a 
speech told them, that in other coun- 
tries, particularly in France, they had 
formerly parliaments, as we have, but 
when their parliamentary liberty was 
turned into tumultuary license, and 
their kings found how those councils 
endeavored to curb them, they took 
away and abolished those parliaments ; 
and now the common people, wanting 
good food, looked more like ghosts 
than men, and went in canvass clothes 
and wooden shoes. . . . His [Sir Dud- 
ley Carleton' s] friends had much ado 
to keep him from being brought upon 
his knees to the bar for his speech. 
. . . But he went on . . . 

At this time Cambridge chose the 
duke of Bucks for their chancellor, to 
please the king, and shew their dislike 
to the commons. . . 

They [the commons] agreed upon a 
remonstrance against the duke, and con- 
cerning the king's taking of tunnage 
and poundage, though not granted to 
him by parliament. . . . The parlia- 
ment was dissolved June 15th, 1626, 
unhappily. 

Thus this great, warm, and ruffling 
parliament had its period. 

Letter of Sir Simonds d' Ewes to Sir 
Martin Stuteville. 

May II. 

. . . The king was, this morning, 
in the upper house, and there com- 
plained of Sir John Elliot, for com- 
paring the duke to Sejanus, in which, 
he said, implicitly he must intend him- 
self Tiberius. Shortly after ... he 
sent both him and Sir Dudley Digges 
to the Tower. 



Charles I. 



69 



3. Extract from Sir Simonds d'Evves' 
Autobiography. 

1626. 

Infinite almost was tlie sadness of 
each man's heart, and the dejection of 
liis countenance that truly loved the 
Church or Commonwealth, at the sud- 
den and abortive breach of the present 
Parliament on Thursday, the 15th day 
of this instant June. For the House of 
Coinmons having transmitted up George 
Duke of Buckingham to the Lords, as 
guilty of iTiany great and enormous 
crimes, and especially because he had 
given a potion and ministered plasters 
to King James, in his last sickness, of 
which it was doubted he died ; and the 
Upper House thereupon, and for some 
other offences, intending to question the 
said Duke for his life ; all those pro- 
ceedings received a sudden check and 
stop by this heavy and fatal dissolution. 
. . . All men that truly loved God, 
their king and country, had just cause 
to lament so dismal and sad an accident. 



4. Extracts from Private Letters. 
(In Court and Times of Charles I.) 

Rev. Jos. Mead to Sir Martin 

Stuteville. 

Christ College, July 22nd, 1626. 

. . . On Monday the judges sat in 

Westminster Hall to persuade the people 

to pay subsidies ; but there arose a great 

tumultuous shout amongst them. " A 

parliament ! a parliament ! or else no 

subsidies." . . . 

July 24th. 

. . . This ill success in those and 
some other places make a speech in 
the mouths of some, as if his majesty 
would supply himself by the sale of 
lands iti capite. . . . They of Scotland 
cry out amain of the Duke of Bucking- 
ham, saying they will know how King 
James, the Duke of Lennox, the Mar- 
quis of Hamilton came to their end. 



Mr. Pory to Rev. Jos. Mead. 
Aug. 17th, 1636. 
. . . There is much talk of both 
raising silver and gold coin two shil- 
lings in the pound, that the king may 
make gain thereof. . . . 

• to Rev. Joseph Mead. 

August 25th, 1626. 
Here hath been much ado about our 
new coinage of silver and gold, for 
which the king is to have in a pound 
weight of gold 52 s., whereas it was 
before but 15s.; and 3 s. 6 d. for a 
pound weight of silver, which was 
before but 2 s. 6 d. The Lords have 
sitten many times about it, and sent for 
some merchants for their opinions of 
it ; who, I know, are of opinion it is 
a most dangerous project for the king 
and kingdom ; for that although at 
first the king may, perhaps, get much 
by the coinage, yet it will overthrow 
trade by the altering of the exchange, 
much impoverish king and all men in 
their revenues, improve Spain's bullion, 
enhance the prices of all things, and 
for the profit occasion foreign countries 
to counterfeit truly our coin, and there- 
by deprive the king of his hope by 
coinage, and therefore is thought will 
not hold. 

to the Rev. Jos. Mead. 

London, Oct. 6th, 1626. 
Though the parishes of St. Margaret's 
and St. Martin's in Westminster have 
yielded to lend the king, according to 
the date demanded of five subsidies ; 
yet St. Clement's parish, the Strand, 
the Duchy, with the Savoy, have 
caused a riot, the most of them denying 
to lend, and stand ready for a press 
groat rather than yield a jot. Amongst 
them, the Prophet Ball, the tailor, is 
the chief man, who, for his boldness 
in advising the Lords to inore lawful 
councils, is fast in the messenger's 



70 



Charles I. 



hands. He quoted Scripture to them 
mightily. Of these aforementioned 
were those, who at the first, when the 
subsidies were demanded, cried out for 
a parliament. 

Unsigned Letter from London. 
Feb. 2nd, 1626-7. 

This week are ten knights and gentle- 
men of quality, of Northamptonshire, 
committed to several prisons for refus- 
ing to subscribe and lend. . . . Lin- 
colnshire did little better than rebel. 
. . . Sin-opshire hath utterly denied, 
and so hath Devonshire, and the gentle- 
men of Warwickshire, that are sent for 
up, do refuse to come. What dire 
events may this next summer follow 
upon this, together with the enmity 
of Spain, France, and Flanders, God 
only knows and can avert. 

Rev. Jos. Mead to Sir JMartin 

Stuteville. 
Christ College, Feb. 3d, Shrove Eve, 

1626-7. 

Besides what is in the enclosed, 
holding the bottom of my second letter 
'against the fire till it grew brown, I 
read as followeth : 

" Sir — Will } ou believe that the duke 
[Buckingham] should be carried in his 
box by six men to St. James's to tennis, 
and the king walk by him on foot.'' 
It is true. I doubt not but you have 
heard of the play in Christmas, which 
was begun again at the duke's entering, 
the king having heard one full act." 

Because my author was so private, 
I thought not fit to make it so common 
as the rest. 

Unsigned Letter from London. 
Feb. 9, 1626-7. 

There is a new plot now on foot for 
money. Every knight bachelor shall 
have a riband, with a jewel of £5, 



from the king, to wear continually for 
distinction between them and gentle- 
men, for which they must pay presently 
£25, and the refusers to be degraded. 
Baronets for the like to pay £40. 

Unsigned Letter from London. 

March i6th, 1626-7. 

Though but few or none yet know 
of it, I can assure you, there is in agi- 
tation a royal visitation among the 
clergy, which will strike as deep as the 
loan of five subsidies doth with the 
laity ; and it is very likely to proceed ; 
the particulars whereof, with the pro- 
jectors, you shall know hereafter. 

Letter to the Rev. Joseph Mead. 

Nov. 23, 1627. 

There is a new loan of 1 20 or 
£150,000 projected, to be paid in by 
the Lords and others of the Privy 
Council, and by the rich officers of the 
Chancery, the Exchequer, and the 
Court of Wards. 

Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin 

Stuteville. 

Candlemas Day, Feb. 2nd, 1627-S. 

Because the last news I heard is the 
best, and I am loth to keep you too 
long from it, you shall have it in the 
first place ; namely, that after many 
projects consulted upon, as base coin, 
whereof every man to receive a share, 
and an impost of two shillings or two 
and sixpence a chaldron upon coals, 
which on Monday last was said to be 
concluded upon : all such devices are 
now dashed, and on Tuesday night a 
parliament resolved on, to begin on 
Monday the 17th of March, which I 
pray God to speed, and direct all their 
consultations for the public good, set- 
ting aside all sources of contention and 
disagreement. 



Charles I. 



71 



L.etter of Rev. Joseph j\Icad to Sir 
Alartiu Stutevllle. 

April 19th, 162S. 

. . . The same day (Apr. 13) came 
a startling message from his majesty : 

" His majesty having long since given 
timely notice unto you . . . wills you 
to take heed you force him not to make 
an unpleasing end of that which hath 
been so happily begun." 

Upon the delivery of this message 
the second time, (for the House so 
would have it) all being sad and silent, 
up starts Sir Francis Nethersole, in- 
treating licence of the House, that he 
might report his last night's dream, 
with protestation he would truly deliver 
it. Whereat some laughing, he told 
them kingdoms had been saved by 
dreams. So they bade him go on. 
And this it was, according to the per- 
fectest relation, I heard thereof. He 
saw two goodly pastures ; a flock of 
sheep in one of them ; and a bellwether 
alone in the other ; a great ditch be- 
tween them both, and a narrow bridge 
over that ditch. Here the speaker, 
with good words of his person, mildly 
interrupted him, saying it stood not 
with the gravity of the House to hear 
dreams. But the gentlemen desired to 
hear it out: so on he went. "Some- 
times," said he, " the sheep w^ould go 
over unto the bellwether; sometimes 
the bellwether to the sheep. On a 
time, both met on the narrow bridge, 
and the question was, who should go 
back, since they could not both go on, 
without danger to be overthrown in the 
ditch. One sheep gave counsel that 
the sheep on the bridge should lie on 
their bellies, and let the bellwether go 
over their backs." The application to 
the house. 

Sir John Elliot thanked the speaker 
for interrupting the gentleman, saying 



it became not the gravity of that House 
to hear dreams told. Sir Edward Coke 
said, that of dreams there were three 
kinds, prophetical, natural and fantas- 
tical, and that this dream was of the 
third and last sort. Sir Thomas Went- 
worth said, he would let pass the 
dream, and speak to his majesty's mes- 
sage, which he did. . . . 

April 2Sth, 162S. 

What news we received on Saturday 
you shall find enclosed, and with it the 
king's speech on Monday before. I 
saw also the keeper's preamble, and 
the petition for unbilleting of soldiers ; 
but because they were long, and I had 
no scribe to write them, I have not 
furnished you with them. And, alas! 
what delight could you find in reading 
them, when you must hear, that since 
that time all is grown woful and des- 
perate .? I have not yet seen this day' s 
letters ; yet all that come from London 
tell us that the parliament is not like to 
hold above three or four days ; that the 
greater part of the Lords stand for the 
king's prerogative against the subjects' 
liberties ; that my lord president made 
a speech in the upper house on the 
king's behalf, endeavouring to show the 
inconveniences which might follow in 
having our king's [hands] so tied. 
Against whom the Earl of Arundel 
stood up, confuted him, and made a 
public protestation against him and the 
rest who were of the same opinion, 
concluding that those liberties which 
now they would betray, were those 
which had cost so much of their pred- 
ecessors' blood to maintain them ; and 
for his own part, he was resolved to 
lose his own life, and spend his own 
blood, rather than he would ever give 
consent to the betraying of them. Of 
his part were fifty lords and earls. . . . 
The bishops were divided. . . . The 
Bishop of Lincoln [was] much com- 



72 



Charles I. 



mended for what he spoke on behalf of 
the subject, acknowledging he had once 
offended in the days of his late master, 
in standing for the prerogative to the 
prejudice of the subjects' liberties ; for 
•which he now desired forgiveness, pro- 
fessing that henceforward neither hope 
of greater preferments, nor fear of the 
loss of what he presently enjoyed, 
should make him do or speak against 
his conscience. 

The attorney, they say, motioned 
that the liberties they claimed might be 
moderated, and so his majesty and they 
should sooner agree. But Sir Edward 
Coke said that the true mother would 
never consent to the dividing of her 
child. Whereat the duke swore that 
he did as much as intimate that the 
king, his master, was [an abandoned 
woman]. 

The House of Commons, I ain told, 
sat four days without speaking or doing 
anything ; and are resolved to grant no 
subsidies till his inajesty give them 
assurance of the continuance of their 
liberties. A gentleman told me, that 
they desired of the king but to confirm 
that of their persons with a mitigation, 
namely, that none should be imprisoned 
above two months before they came to 
their answer. That they offered to 
pass the five subsidies, which were 
formally agreed upon by a general 
committee, to be paid between this and 
next Candlemas : and to add, more- 
over, whatsoever further supply should 
be necessar}' : and 3'et his majesty re- 
fused them. Whereupon Sir Edward 
Coke said publiclj', that no king of 
England ever had the like offer made 
him by his subjects ; nor ever King 
Christian denied his subjects so reason- 
able and equal request. That they 
meddled neither with favourite or cour- 
tier ; but onl)' desired a confirmation of 
the liberties granted and enjoyed by 
their predecessors for inany ages : and 



should they not obtain it ? . . . The 
general voice is, all is nought, and no 
hope of good conclusion left, which 
God if it be his blessed will avert, and 
beyond our hope bring us out of these 
v^roful straits, though we can see no 
way of deliverance from them. . . 

June 15th, 163S. 

I know you have heard of that black 
and doleful Thursday, June the 5th, 
the day I arrived in London ; which 
was by degrees occasioned first of his 
majesty's unsatisfactory answer on 
Monday ; increased by a message after- 
v\'ards, that his majesty was resolved 
neither to add to nor alter the answer 
he had given them. Hereupon they 
fell to recount the miscarriages of our 
government, and the disasters of all 
our designs these later years, represent- 
ing everything to the life ; but the first 
day glancing only at the duke, but not 
iiaming him. On Wednesday they 
proceeded farther to the naming of him ; 
Sir Edward Coke breaking the ice, and 
the rest following, so that on Thursday, 
they growing still more vehement, and 
ready to fall downright upon him, a 
message was sent from his majesty, ab- 
solutely forbidding them to meddle 
with the government or any of his 
majesty's ministers; but, if they meant 
to have this session, forthwith to finish 
what they have begun : otherwise his 
majesty would dismiss them. Then 
appeared such a spectacle of passions, 
as the like had seldom been seen in 
such an assembly, some weeping, some 
expostulating, some prophecy ing of the 
fatal ruin of our kingdom ; some play- 
ing the divines, in confessing their own 
and country's sins, which drew those 
judgments upon us ; some finding, as it 
were, fault with those that wept, and 
expressing their bold and courageous 
resolutions against the enemies of the 
king and kingdom. 




GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 

(Tlie original painting is by Van der VVerft.) 



Charles I, 



73 



I have been told, by a parliament 
man, that there were above an hundred 
weeping eyes, many who oKered to 
speak being interrupted and silenced 
bv their own passions. But they stayed 
not here, but as grieved men are wont, 
all this doleful distemper showered 
down upon the Duke of Buckinghain 
as the cause and author of all their 
misery, in the midst of these their 
pangs crying out most bitterly against 
him, as the abuser of the king and 
enemy of the kingdom. At which 
time, Mr. Speaker, not able, as he 
seemed, any longer to behold so woful 
a spectacle in so grave a senate, with 
tears flowing in his eyes, besought them 
to grant him leave to go out for half an 
hour; which being granted him, he 
went presently to his majesty, and in- 
formed him what a state the House was 
in, and caine presently back with a 
message to dismiss the House of all 
cominittees from further proceeding, 
until next morning, when they should 
know his majesty's pleasure farther. 
The like was sent to the Lord's House, 
and not there entertained without some 
tears ; both Houses accepting it as a 
preparation to a dissolution, which they 
expected would be next morning. But 
this is observable (I hear it from a par- 
liament knight) that, had not the 
speaker returned at that very moment, 
they had voted the duke a traitor and 
arch enemy to the king and kingdom, 
with a worse appendix thereto, soine 
say true. They were then calling to the 
question, when the speaker came in, but 
then stayed to hear his message. . . . 

June 2ist, Saturday, 162S. 
On Saturday, . . . June 14, after 
dinner, the king and duke being at 
bowls in the Spring Garden, or, as 
some say, looking on those who were 
playing at bowls, the duke put on his 
hat. A Scottishman, one Wilson, see- 



ing it, kisses his hand, and snatches it 
off, saying, " You must not stand with 
your hat on before m}- king." The 
duke falling to kick him, the king said, 
"Let him, George; he is either mad 
or a fool." — "No, sir," quoth Wilson, 
"I am a sober man; but this man's 
health is pledged with as much devo- 
tion at Dunkirk, as your majesty's 
here." . . . 

St. Peter's Eve, June 29, 1628. 

That barbarous rabble, which mauled 
and mangled Dr. Lamb [who had been 
murdered on June 13th in a tumult that 
began by some boys calling him the 
Ditke' s devil~\, did it in reference to the 
duke his master, as they called him, 
whom, they said, had he been there, 
they would have handled worse, and 
would have minced his flesh, and have 
had every one a bit of him. . . . 

This week, about Wednesday, his 
majesty went with the duke, (taking 
him into his coach, and so riding 
through the city, as it were to grace 
him) to Deptford, to see the ships: 
where, having seen ten fair ships ready 
rigged for Rochelle, they say he uttered 
these words to the duke: "George, 
there are some that wish that these and 
thou mightest both perish. But care 
not for them : we will both perish to- 
gether, if thou doest." 



5. Letter from Portsmouth of Sir 
Dudley Carleton to the Qiieen. (In 
Ellis: 1st Series, 3rd volume, p. 256.) 

Maddam, I am to trouble your Grace 
with a most Lamentable Relation ; This 
day [Aug. 23] betwixt nine and ten of 
the clock in the morning, the Duke of 
Buckingham then coming out of a 
Parlor, into a Hall, to goe to his coach 
and soe to the king (who was four 
miles of) having about him diverse 
Lords, Colonells and Captains, and 
manv of his owne Servants, was by one 



74 



Charles I, 



Felton (once a Lieutenant of this our 
Army) slaine at one blow, with a dag- 
ger-knife. In his staggering he turn'd 
about, uttering onely this word, " Vil- 
laine " and never spake word more, 
but presently plucking out the knife 
from himselfe, before he fell to the 
ground, hee made towards the Traytor, 
two or three paces, and then fell against 
a Table although he were upheld by 
diverse that were neere him, that 
(through the villaines close carriage in 
the act) could not perceive him hurt at 
all, but guessed him to be suddenly 
oversway'd with some apoplexie, till 
they saw the blood come gushing from 
his mouth and the wound, soe fast, that 
life and breath at once left his begored 
body. Maddam, you may easily guesse 
what outcryes were then made, by us 
that were Commaunders and Officers 
there present, when wee saw him thus 
dead in a moment, and slaine by an un- 
knowne hand ; for it seemes that the 
Duke himselfe only knew who it was 
that had murdered him, and by meanes 
of the confused presse at the instant 
about his person, wee neither did nor 
could. . . . 

But to returne to the screeches made 
att the fatall blow given, the Duchesse 
of Buckingham and ^ountess of An- 
glesey came forth into a Gallery which 
looked into the Hall where they might 
behold the blood of their deei-est Lord 
gushing from him. Ah poore Ladies, 
such was their screechings, teares and 
distractions, that I never in my Life 
heard the like before, and hope never 
to hear the like againe. 



6. Extract from the Autobiography 
of Sir Simonds d'Ewes. 

1628. 

Some of his friends had advised him 
[Buckingham] how generally he was 
hated in England, and how needful it 



would be for his greater safety to wear 
some coat of mail or some other secret 
defensive armour : which the Duke 
slighting, said, "It needs not; thei^e 
are no Roman spirits left." August 
the 33rd, being Saturday, the Duke 
having eaten his breakfast between 
eight and nine o'clock in the morning, 
in one Mr. Mason's house in Ports- 
mouth, was then hasting awa3- to the 
king, who lay at Reswick, some five 
iniles distant, to have some speedy con- 
ference with him. Being come to the 
further part of the entry leading out of 
the parlour into the hall of the house, 
he had there some conference with Sir 
Thomas Frier, Knt., a colonel, and 
stooping down in taking his leave of 
him, John Felton, a gentleman, having 
watched his opportunity, thrust a long 
knife with a white haft he had secretly 
about him, with great strength and vio- 
lence, into his breast, under his left 
pap, cutting the diaphragm and lungs, 
and piercing the very heart itself. . . . 
He pulled out the knife himself, and 
being carried by his servants unto the 
table that stood in the same hall, hav- 
ing struggled with death near upon 
a quarter of an hour he gave up 
the ghost about ten of the clock the 
same forenoon, and lay a long time 
after he was dead upon the hall table 
there. . . . 

Mr. Felton, even to his death, avowed 
. . . that the love only of the public 
good induced him to that act. For, 
having read the Remonstrance the 
House of Commons preferred to the 
King in the late session of Parliament, 
by which the Duke was branded to be 
a capital enemy to Church and State, 
and that there was no public justice 
to be had against him, he had strong 
inward workings and resolutions to 
sacrifice himself for the Church and 
State. 



Charles I. 



75 



... 7. Private Letters regarding 
Sir John Elliot. 

J\Ir. Pory to Sir Tliomas Puckering. 
Jan. 13, 1631-2. 
This other day, Sir John Elliot's at- 
torney-at-law told me he had been with 
him long since his removal into his new 
lodging, and found him the same cheer- 
ful, healthful, undaunted man that ever 
he was. . . . 

Mr. Pory to Lord Brooke. 

Oct. 35th, 1632. 
. . . On Tuesday was sennight, Mr. 
Mason, of Lincoln's Inn, made a mo- 
tion to the judges of the King's Bench 
for Sir John Elliot, that whereas the 
doctors were of opinion he could never 
recover of his consumption until such 
time as he might breathe in purer air, 
they would for some certain time grant 
him his enlargement for that purpose. 
Whereunto my Lord Chief Justice 
Richardson answered, that, although 
Sir John were brought low in body, 
yet was he as high and lofty in mind as 
ever; for he would neither submit to 
the king nor to the justice of that court. 
In fine, it was concluded by the Bench 
to refer him to the king by way of 
petition. 



S. Extracts from the Autobiographj' 
of Sir Simonds d'Ewes. [Written in 
163S.] 

This year £1635. There had been 
no parliament in all this time] brought 
forth many sad and dismal effects in 
the public, both at home and abroad. 
... At home the liberty of the sub- 
jects of England received the most 
deadly and fatal blow it had been sen- 
sible of in five hundred years last past ; 
for writs were issued the summer fore- 
going to all the sheriffs of England, to 
levy great suins of money in all the 
counties of the same kingdom and 



Wales, under pretext and colour to 
provide ships for the defence of the 
kingdom, although we were now in 
peace with all the world, and the royal 
fleet was never stronger or in better 
case. The sum now to be levied came 
to some £320,000, and if this could be 
done lawfully, then by the same right 
the king upon the like pretence might 
gather the same sum ten, twelve, or a 
hundred times redoubled, and so to in- 
finite proportions to any one shire, 
when and as often as he pleased ; and 
so no man was, in conclusion, worth 
anything. 

I conceived the king himself might 
be informed this taxation and levy was 
lawful ; but it was afterwards cleared 
b^Sir George Crooke, Knt., one of the 
justices of the King's Bench, in his ar- 
gument in the Exchequer Chamber . . . 
that this taxation was absolutely against 
law, and an utter oppression of the sub- 
jects' liberty, who had such a property 
in their goods as could not be taken 
from them by any taxes or levies, but 
such only as were enacted and set down 
by Act of Parliament. . . . Sir John 
Denham, the ancientest Baron of the 
Exchequer, gave the same judgment 
for the liberty of the subject. And, 
indeed all our liberties were now at 
one dash utterly ruined if the king 
might at his pleasure lay what unlim- 
ited taxes he pleased on his subjects, 
and then imprison them when they re- 
fused to pay ; for though to take men's 
estates away might in the issue bring 
on poverty and death, yet that is not so 
certain a way nor so speedy to shorten 
our lives as imprisonment is, where, by 
restraint of exercise and unwholesome 
air, many men must as necessarily 
perish as by the sword. Besides, what 
shall freemen differ from the ancient 
bondsmen and villains of England, if 
their estates be subject to arbitrary 
taxes, tallages and impositions.' . . . 



76 



Charles 1. 



In all my life I never saw so many sad 
faces in England as this new taxation, 
called ship-money, occasioned ; nay, 
the grief and astonishment of most 
men's hearts broke out into sad and 
doleful complaints, not only under the 
burthen they felt at the instant, but 
with ominous presage of the issue ; for 
many refused absolutely to pay.^ and 
most that did pay it, yielded out of 
mere fear and horror of greater dan- 
ger : whence the before-mentioned Mr. 
Judge Hutton said plainly in his argu- 
ment, that " it was not the king's pre- 
rogative to take his subjects' goods 
from them with their heartburnings." 
For mine own part, I so far desired 
the peace and quiet of the kingdom, as 
I could have wished this tax had been 
annexed to the Crown (to levy annu- 
ally without alteration) by Act of Par- 
liament ; but thus to pluck away the 
subjects' goods and estates from them 
contrary to their ancient and hereditary 
liberties, by force and power, what can 
the issue of it be but fatal? Some 
were so overwise as to think the king 
the happier because he should now 
never need any Parliament ; but alas ! 
in that they were grossly deceived, un- 
less they will say it is a happiness for 
a Prince to want the love of his sub- 
jects, to have truth concealed from him, 
and to have the distempers of Church 
and Commonwealth to grow unto in- 
curable diseases. . . . Kings are but 
men ; and it is their miseries for the 
most part, either not to be informed of 
the miseries and calamities of their sub- 
jects at all, or if they be, to have the 
matter smothered up by some great 
ones, or to have some private emolu- 
ment by it. . . . There are only three 
cases in which, by the ancient law of 
England, the kings of that realm may 
require aid of their subjects without the 
public consent of their kingdom: ist. 
In case the Sovereign be taken pris- 



oner, to redeem him. zd. For the 
knighting of his eldest son. 3d. For 
the marriage of his eldest daughter, 
once only. But yet these aids are not 
like this ship-money, without bounds 
or limits, to be levied of all men, and 
in what proportion the king shall 
please ; for they can only be levied of 
knights' fees, and such as hold their 
lands by that tenure ; and the utmost 
that can be required is but forty shil- 
lings upon each knight's fee. 



9. Extracts from Nehemiah Wal- 
lington's Historical Notices (Ed. Webb. 
London, 1870, Vol. I.). 

. . . There hath come from Ireland 
many such sad pitiful letters, concern- 
ing the miserable and sad condition of 
the poor protestants there, with the 
great increase of their enemies the 
Rebels, that it should make our hearts 
bleed ; but I give you but a taste of the 
bitter cup that they drink of. And 
still they lie languishing and crying 
unto us, saying. Have you no pity 
of me, O you in England.? Oh have 
ye no regard, all you that hear of my 
miseries.' Behold and see if there be 
any sorrow like unto my sorrow which 
is done unto me, wherewith the Lord 
hath afflicted me in the day of his fierce 
wrath. 

In October 1641, when the Rebels 
did first arise in Ireland, there were 
the Sufferings and Miseries of my wife's 
Brother, Zachariah Rampain, his wife 
and five children, four of his children 
dwelling in the house with him, having 
every child a maid-servant attending 
on them ; his wife and children very 
tenderly brought up, and he a man 
well-beloved and of a great estate, 
dwelling in the north part of Ireland, 
in the county of Fermanagh, near 
Enniskillen. 

Captain Adkinson (which was kin 
to my Brother's first wife) being in 



Charles I. 



n 



Castlecoule, in the county of Fer- 
managh, knowing of the Rebels com- 
ing, sent to speak to my Brother, and 
caused him to bring his family and 
goods into the Castle, and they did by 
Saturday night get in what goods they 
could into the Castle ; and on Monday, 
Brian Maguire came with his Army 
against it, and took the castle ; and the 
next day my Brother and his family 
had a pass under Brian's hand to depart 
the Kingdom, and they sent a guard 
along with them, and then sent another 
company after them to murder them. 
So when they were gone about six 
miles off, they stripped them all, and 
bid them say their prayers, for they 
would kill them all. Then they first 
did kill my Brother Zachariah, stabbing 
their skenes (swords) into him (as 
also his wife's brother, and a gentle- 
man, they killed there in like manner 
also, cutting all their throats after they 
had stabbed them) ; which his wife 
beholding did on her knees beg for his 
life, as also his children, crying piti- 
fully, " O do not kill my Father, O 
do not kill my Father," being much 
distracted, pulling their hair, being con- 
tent and desiring to die with him. But 
these bloody Rebels did drive them 
from him, saying they would reserve 
them for a worse death, even to starve 
them to death. 

Then my sister and her four children, 
and her maids, and a gentlewoman 
(whose husband they then had hewed 
to pieces before their faces) they went 
all naked on a mount, and sat starving 
there. . . . Then my sister did get 
into Coule Castle, again, to Captain 
Adkinson, but she was got into an old 
house, but covild get no relief, and then, 
having intelligence she should be cut 
all to pieces, she then did get away, 
and in her journey by the way she had 
two children starved to death with 
hunger and cold. . . . 



Now mark what folio weth, " He 
that sheddeth blood, by man shall his 
blood be shed" saith the Lord. 

It was not long after but it was known 
that one of those men that had a hand 
in killing my brother, he was killed, 
and I make no question but the rest are, 
or will be, in God's time. And towards 
the latter end of May 1641, was the 
Earl of Strafford, Deputy of Ireland, 
that was a great agent employed by the 
king in shedding of the blood of the 
Protestants in Ireland, beheaded on 
the scaffold upon Tower Hill. 

. . . Above three score times was 
this Earl of Strafford spoken of in the 
House of Commons. For, from the 
first day of their sitting, which was the 
7th of November, 1640, till the loth 
of May, 1641, still now and then he 
was complained of, and spoken of in 
the House. And surely I do not know 
of anything they had so long in hand as 
this Earl of Strafford, for he was very 
cunning and very tough in the handling. 



10. Extracts from M. Baillie, Letters 
and Journals. (Edinb., 1841. Vol. I., 
p. 314.) [Relating to the Trial of 
Strafford by the Parliament. Begun 
Monday, March 23nd, 1640-1.] 

Westminster Hall is a roome as long 
[and] as broad if not more than the outer 
house of the High Church of Glasgow, 
supponing the pillars were removed. In. 
the midst of it was erected a stage like 
to that prepared for the Assemblie of 
Glasgow, but much more large, taking 
up the breadth of the whole House from 
wall to wall, and of the length more 
than a thrid part. At the north end 
was set a throne for the King, and a 
chayre for the Prince ; before it lay a 
large wool-seek, covered with green^ 
for my Lord Steward, the Earle of 
Arundaill ; beneath it lay two other 
seeks for my Lord Keeper and the 
Judges, with the rest of the Chancerie,, 



78 



Charles I. 



all in their red robes. Beneath this a 
little table for four or fyve Clerks of 
the Parliament in their black gowns ; 
round about these some funnes 
[benches] covered with green freese, 
whereupon the Earles and Lords did 
sit in their red robes, of that same fash- 
ion, lyned with the same whyte ermin 
Gklnnts, as you see the robes of our 
Lords when they ryde in Parliament ; 
the Lords on their right sleeve having 
two barres of whyte skinnes, the Vis- 
counts two and ane half, the Earles 
three, the Marquess of Wincester three 
and ane half, England hath no more 
Marquesses : and he bot one late up- 
start of creature of Qiieen Elizabeth's. 
Hamilton goes here bot among the 
Earles, and that a late one, Dukes, they 
have none in Parliament : York, Rich- 
mond, and Buckinghame are butboyes ; 
Lennox goeth among the late Earles. 
Behind the formes where the Lords sitt, 
there is a barr covered with green : at 
the one end standeth the Committee of 
eight or ten gentlemen, appo3'nted by 
the House of Commons to pursue : at 
the midst there is a little dask, where 
the prisoner Strafford stands and sitts 
as he pleaseth, together with his keeper. 
Sir William Balfour, the Lieutenant of 
the Tower. At the back of this is a 
dask, for Strafford's four secretars, 
who carries his papers and assists him 
in writing and reading ; at their side is 
a voyd for witnesses to stand ; and be- 
hinde them a long dask at the wall of 
the room for Strafford's counsell-at-law, 
some five or six able lawyers, who were 
not permitted to disputt in matter of 
fact, but questions of right, if ane 
should be incident. This is the order 
of the House below on the floore ; the 
same that is used dailie in the Higher 
House. Upon the two -sides of the 
House, east and west, there arose a 
stage of elevin ranks of formes, the 
highest touching the roof ; everyone of 



these formes Avent from one end of the 
roome to the other, and contained about 
fortie men. . . . All the doores were 
keeped verie straitlie with guards ; we 
always behooved to be there a little 
after five in the moining. . . . By 
favour we got place within the raile, 
among the Commons. The House 
was full dailie before seven; against 
eight the Earle of Strafford came in his 
barge from the Tower, accompanied 
with the Lieutenant and a guard of 
musqueteers and halberders. The 
Lords, in their robes were sett about 
eight; the king was usuallie halfe an 
hovvre before them : he came not into 
his throne, for that would have inarred 
the action ; for it is the order of Eng- 
■land, that when the king appears, he 
speaks what he will, bot no other 
speaks in his presence. At the back of 
the throne, there was two rooms on the 
two sydes ; in the one did Duke de Van- 
den, Duke de Vallet, and other French 
nobles sitt ; in the other the king, the 
queen, Princesse Mary, the Prince 
Elector, and some Court ladies ; the tir- 
lies, that made them to be secret, the king 
brake down with his own hands ; so they 
sat in the eye of all, bot little more re- 
garded than if they had been absent ; for 
the Lords sat all covered ; these of the 
Lower House, and all other except the 
French noblemen, sat discovered 'when 
the Lords came, not else. A number 
of ladies wes in boxes, above the railes, 
for which they payed much money. It 
was dailie the most glorious Assemblie 
the Isle could afford ; yet the gravitie 
not such as I expected ; oft great clam- 
our without about the doores ; in the 
intervalles, while Strafford was making 
readie for answers, the Lords got 
alwayes to their feet, walked and clat- 
tered ; the Lower House men too loud 
clattering ; after ten houres, much pub- 
lict eating, not onlie of confections, bot 
of flesh and bread, bottles of beer and 




: THOMAS EAHLF 

Vi /,- c u i !/■ Ill' I U- 1 r c-i \' /■.').,! -o 
■fk^rr/i'. \r/r.uioiv/:,Cfjr;/. ■/■■ 
aju/ovncf\J( i \v \'r'n j/'^y r/ 

'B'xvijC'<xti\ci'./,^ Ill c{ KniK^h t ^J- 1/ 

lllllllllllliilllllll!llllllllllll|llll|ill'llll|t||!l||l(||i!ll!:f,ni|'i!)!l(i'!,'ll!Tr till 



^^5^*^.i Ic)/ .\-iv \FronDF. 

ILv/// 1 at r Eu tI • ^T 
; IV in /it II ' I >r't I '' 



ijtilo/ 1' <-id<:i f" 




Charles I. 



79 



wine going tliick from mouth to mouth 
without cups, and all this in the king's 
eye ; . . . there was no outgoing to 
veturne ; and oft the sitting was till 
two, or tliree, or four o'clock. 

The first session was on Mononday 
the 22nd of March. All being sett, as 
I have said, the Prince in his robes on 
a little chyre at the syde of the throne, 
the Chamberland and Black-Rod went 
and fetched in my Lord Strafford ; he 
was alwayes in the same sute of black, 
as in doole. At the entrie he gave a 
low courtesie, proceeding a little, he 
gave a second, when he came to his 
dask a third, then at the barr, the fore- 
face of his dask, he kneeled: ryseing 
quicklie, he saluted both sides of the 
Houses, and then satt down. Some 
few of the Lords lifted their hatts to 
him ; this was his dailie carriage. 

My Lord Steward, in a sentence or 
two, shew that the House of Commons 
had accused the Earle of Strafford of 
High Treason, that he was there to 
answer ; that they might manadge their 
evidence as they thought meet. They 
desyred one of the Clerks to read their 
impeachment. I sent you long agoe 
the printed copie. . . . 

On Tuesday the 13th, all being sett 
as before, Strafford made a speech 
large two hours and ane half ; went 
through all the articles. ... To all he 
repeated not (nought) new, bot the 
best of his former answers ; and in the 
end, after some lashness and fagging, 
he made such ane pathetick oration for 
ane half houre, as ever comedian did 
upon a stage. The matter and ex- 
pression was exceeding brave : doubt- 
less, if he had grace or civill goodness, 
he is a most eloquent man. The speech 
you have it here in print. One pas- 
sadge made it most spoken of ; his 
breaking off in weeping and silence, 
when he spoke of his first wife. Some 
took it for a true defect of his mem- 



orie ; others, and the most part, for a 
notable part of his rhetorick ; some 
that true grief, and remorse at that 
remembrance, had stopped his mouth ; 
for they say, that his first Lady, the 
Earl of Clare's sister, being with child, 

and finding one of his 's letters, 

brought it to him, and chideing him 
therefore, he stroke her on the breast, 
whereof shortlie she died. Mr. Glyn 
did follow with a speech three houres 
long ; the great length of the speech 
made him fagg in the end. He referred 
the odiousness of the cryme to the 
handeling of another. This was Mr. 
Pym, who truelie, to. the confession of 
all, in half ane hour, made one of the 
most eloquent, wise free speeches, that 
ever we heard, or I think shall ever 
hear. Some of the passages of it, and 
no more bot some, and these defaced, I 
send yow in print, as they have been 
taken in speaking by some common 
hand. To humble the man, God lett 
his memorie faill him a little before 
the end. His papers he looked on ; 
bot they could not help him to a point 
or two, so he behoved to passe them : 
1 believe the King never heard a lec- 
ture of so free language against that his 
idolised prerogative. . . . For diverse 
dayes thereafter the House of Commons 
went on with their Bill of Attainture. 
Whenitwasreadie and read three diverse 
dayes, at last it was voyced and carried, 
only fifty- eight contradicting. For this 
there was great joy among us all, and 
praise to God. These friends of Straf- 
ford' s were much discountenanced by all 
honest men. Some printed their names, 
and fixed them on publict wayes. 

1 1 . Conclusion of the Earl of Straf- 
ford's Defence. (In Somers' Tracts, 
Edited by Walter Scott, Vol. IV. 
1810.) 

. . . My lords, there yet remains 
another treason that I should be guilty 



8o 



Charles I. 



of ; the endeavoring to subvert the fun- 
damental laws of the land, that they 
should now be treason together, that is 
not treason in any one part. . . . Under 
favor, my lords, I do not conceive that 
there is either statute law, nor common 
law, that doth declare the endeavoring 
to subvert the fundamental laws to be 
high treason. . . . And yet I have 
been diligent to enquire (as I believe 
you think it doth concern me to do). 

It is hard to be questioned for life 
and honor, upon a law that can not be 
shown. . . . Where hath this fire lain 
all this while, so many hundreds of 
years, without any smoke to discover it, 
till it thus burst forth to consume me 
and my children? Extreme hard in 
my opinion, that punishment should 
precede promulgation of a law, [that I 
should be] punished by a law subse- 
quent to the acts done. . . . My lords, 
it is hard in another respect, — that 
there should be no token set upon this 
offence, by which we should know it, 
no admonition by which we should be 
aware of it. 

If a man pass down the Thames in 
a boat, and it be split upon an anchor, 
no buoy being set as a token that there 
is an anchor there, that party that owns 
the anchor, by the maritime laws, shall 
give satisfaction for the damage done ; 
but if it were marked out, I must come 
upon my own peril. Now where is 
the mark upon this crime, where is the 
token that this is high treason? If it 
be under water, and not above water, 
no human providence can avail, nor 
prevent my destruction. Lay aside all 
human wisdom, and let us rest upon 
divine revelation, if you will condemn 
before you forewarn of the danger. 

Oh my lords, may your lordships 
be pleased to give that regard unto the 
peerage of England, as never to suffer 
ourselves to be put on those nice points. 
... If there must be a trial of wits, I 



do most humbly beseech you the sub- 
ject and matter may be somewhat else 
than the lives and honors of peers. 

My lords we find that in the prim- 
itive times, in the progression of the 
plain doctrine of the apostles, they 
brought the books of curious arts, and 
burned them, and so likewise, as I do 
conceive, it will be wisdom and provi- 
dence in your lordships, for your pos- 
terity and the whole kingdom, to cast 
from you into the fire these bloody and 
most mysterious volumes of construc- 
tive and arbitrary treason, and to be- 
take yourselves to the plain letter of the 
law and statute, that telleth us where 
the crime is, and by telling what is, 
and what is not, shows how to avoid it. 
And let us not be ambitious to be more 
wise and learned in the killing arts than 
our forefathers were. 

It is now full 240 years since ever 
any man was touched for this alledged 
crime (to this height) before myself : 
we have lived happily to ourselves at 
home, and we have lived gloriously to 
the world abroad. Let us rest con- 
tented with that which our fathers left 
us, and not awake those sleepy lions to 
our own destructions, by taking up a 
few musty records, that have lain so 
many ages by the walls, quite forgotten 
and neglected. . . . 

My lords, I have now troubled you 
longer than I should have done : were 
it not for the interest of those dear 
pledges a saint in Heaven hath left me, 
I should be loath my lords (There he 
stopped). 

What I forfeit for myself, it is noth- 
ing, but that my indiscretion should 
forfeit for my child, it even woundeth 
me deep to the very soul. You will 
pardon my infirmity ; something I 
should have said, but I am not able, 
(and sighed), therefore let it pass. 

And now, my lords, I have been, by 
the blessing of Almighty God, taught 



Charles I. 



8i 



that the afflictions of this hfe present, 
are not to be compared to the eternal 
weight of glory that shall be revealed 
to us hereafter. 

And so, my lords, even so with tran- 
quility of mind, I do submit myself 
freely and clearly to your lordships' 
judgment, and whether that righteous 
judgment shall be to life or death, 

Te Deum laudamus, 
te dominum confitemur. 



12. Extracts from Whitelocke's Me- 
morials. 

1641. 

Certainly never any man acted such 
a part on such a theatre with more wis- 
dom, constancy and eloquence, with 
greater reason, judgment and temper, 
and with a better grace in all his words 
and gestures, than this great and excel- 
lent person did ; and he moved the 
hearts of all his auditors (some few ex- 
cepted) to remorse and pity. . . . 

After this, a bill was brought into 
the house of commons to attaint the 
earl of high treason ; upon debate 
whereof, they voted him guilty of high 
treason. 

May I. 

The king called both houses of par- 
liament together, and did passionately 
desire of them not to proceed severely 
against the earl, whom he answered 
for, as to most of the main particulars 
of the charge against him ; tells them 
that in conscience he can not condemn 
the earl of high treason, and that 
neither fear nor any other respect 
should make him go against his con- 
science. . . . 

The bill for continuance of the par- 
liament was brought into the house the 
next morning after it was propounded. 
. . . This bill, and the act of attainder, 
being both passed by the commons, a 
conference was had with the lords after 



they had passed them ; and a message 
sent by some lords to the king, to en- 
treat his answer, who promised to 
satisfv them within two days. 

The king being much perplexed 
upon the tendering of these two bills 
to him, between the clamours of a dis- 
contented people and an unsatisfied 
conscience ; he took advice (as some 
reported) of several of the bishops, 
and of others his intimate councillors, 
what to do in this intricate affair; and 
that the major part of them urged to 
him the opinions of the judges, that 
this was treason, and the bill legal. 

Thev pressed likewise the votes of the 
parliament, that he was but one man, 
that no other expedient could be found 
out to appease the enraged people, and 
that the consequences of a furious mul- 
titude would be very terrible. 

Upon all which they persuaded him 
to pass the bills. 

But the chief motive was said to be 
a letter of the Earl of Strafford, then 
sent unto him, wherein the gallant earl 
takes notice of these things, and what 
is best for his majesty in these straits, 
and to set his conscience at liberty : 
he doth most humbly beseech him for 
prevention of such mischief as may 
happen by his refusal to pass the bill, 
to i-emove him out of the way, 
"towards that blessed agreement 
which God, I trust, shall forever estab- 
lish betwixt you and your subjects. 
Sir, my consent herein shall more ac- 
quit you to God, than all the world can 
do besides : to a willing man there is 
no injury done." 

If not base betraying of their master 
by these passages, and by some private 
dealings, the king was persuaded to 
sign a commission to three lords to pass 
these two bills; and that he should 
ever be brought to it was admired 
[wondered at] by most of his subjects, 
as well as by foreigners. 



82 



Charles I. 



After he had signed these bills, the 
king sent secretary Carleton to the earl 
. . . who seriously asked the secretary 
whether his majesty had passed the bill 
or not ; as not believing without some 
astonishment that the king would have 
done it. 

And being assured that it was passed, 
he rose up from his chair, lift up his 
eyes to Heaven, laid his hand on his 
heart, and said. Put not your trust in 
princes^ nor in the sons of men, for in 
them there is no salvation. . . . He 
made on the scaffold a most ingenious, 
charitable, and pious speech and pray- 
ers . . . and died with charity, cour- 
age, and general lamentation. . . . 



ernment, and deprive the king of his 
legal power, and to place on subjects 
an arbitrary and tyrannical power, by 
foul aspersions on his majesty and his 
government, to alienate the affections 
of his people, and to make him odious." 



13. Extract from Whitelocke (The 
Five Members), 1641. 

The king being informed that some 
members of parliament had private 
meetings, and a correspondence with 
the Scots, and countenanced the late 
tumults from the city, he gave a warrant 
to repair to their lodgings, and to seal 
up the trunks, studies and chambers of 
the lord Kimbolton, Mr. Pym, Mr. 
Hampden, Mr. Hollis, sir Arthur Hasle- 
rigge, and Mr. Stroud ; which was 
done. The house of commons having 
notice hereof whilst it was in doing, 
Jan. 3rd, 1641, they passed this vote: 
..." that if any person whatsoever 
shall offer to arrest or detain the person 
of any member without first acquaint- 
ing this house, that it is lawful for such 
member, or any person to assist him, 
and to stand upon his or their guard 
of defence, and to make a resistance, 
according to the protestation taken to 
defend the privileges of parliament." 

The king being put to it, caused 
articles of high treason and other mis- 
demeanors to be prepared against those 
five members, "For endeavouring to 
subvert the fundamental laws and gov- 



14. Extract from Nehemiah Wal- 
lington. (Lond., 1870. Vol. I. p. 382 
ff.) 

4th of January, Tuesday, the House 
of Commons meeting there was a Re- 
port made to the House, that his 
Majesty would be there that afternoon, 
to give answer to their petition delivered 
the night before. 

About two of the clock his Majesty 
came into the House of Commons, and 
the Speaker rising out of his place, 
he sat therein ; and demanding of his 
prisoners, Mr. Pym, Mr. Hollis, and 
so the rest, who were not there to be 
found, he made a short speech, com- 
manding the House to send them to 
him so soon as they came, otherwise he 
would take them where he found them, 
and wished them to proceed in their 
affairs, without any fear of his con- 
cordancy with them to all their just 
requests, or words to that effect. So 
demanding his prisoners again, he left 
the House. . . . 

A great deliverance (of us all, but 
especially) of those Five dear Servants 
of God and worthy members of the 
House of Commons : Mr. Denzil Hol- 
lis, Sir Arthur Haslerigg, Mr. John 
P}!!!, Mr. John Hampden, and Mr. 
William Stroud. O let this great 
Mercy of our God, on this day, the 4th 
of January 1643, never be forgotten to 
the world's end. But tell it to j'our 
children, that they may tell it to their 
children, how God did miraculously 
deliver his servants on the 4th of Janu- 
ar}', being Tuesday, 1642 ; how that 
" many soldiers, and papists, and 



Charles I. 



83 



others, to the number of five hundred, 
came with his Majesty to the said 
House of Commons, armed with 
swords, pistols and other weapons, 
and divers of them pressed to the door 
of the said House, thrust away the 
door-keepers, and pLaced themselves 
between the said door, and the ordinary 
attendances of his Majesty : holding up 
their swords, and some holding up 
their pistols ready cocked near the said 
door, and saying, ' I am a good Marks- 
man, I can hit right, I warrant you ; ' 
and they not suffering the said door, 
according to the custom of Parliainent, 
to be shut ; but said they would have 
the door open, and if any opposition 
were against them, they made no ques- 
tion but they should make their party 
good, and that they would maintain 
their party, and when several Members 
of the House of Commons were com- 
ing into the House, their attendants 
desiring that room might be made for 
them ; some of the said soldiers an- 
swered, ' Let them come and be hanged, 
what ado is here with the House of 
Commons ; ' and some of the said sol- 
diers did likewise violently assault, and 
by force disarm, some of the Attend- 
ants and Servants of the Members of 
the House of Commons, waiting in the 
room next the said House ; and upon 
the King's return out of the said House, 
many of them by wicked oaths, and 
otherwise, expressed much discontent 
that some Members of the said House, 
for whom the}' came, were not there. 
And others of them said. When comes 
the word ? And no word being given 
at his Majesty's coming out, they cried 
' A lane ; a lane ; ' afterwards some of 
them being demanded, what they 
thought the said company intended to 
have done, answered. That, question- 
less, in the posture they were set, if the 
word had been given, they should have 
fallen upon the House of Commons, 



and have cut all their throats ; upon all 
which we are of opinion that it is suffi- 
ciently proved that the coming of the 
said soldiers, papists and others, with 
his Majesty to the House of Commons 
on Tuesday the 4th of January, in the 
manner aforesaid, was to take away 
some of the members of the said House, 
and if they should have found opposi- 
tion, or denial, then to have fallen upon 
the said House in a hostile manner : 
And we do hereby declare that the 
same was a traitorous design against 
the King and Parliament. And whereas 
the said Mr. HoUis, Sir Arthur Hasle- 
rigg, Mr. Pym, Mr. Hampden, and 
Mr. Strode, upon the report of the 
coming of the said soldiers . . . did, 
with the approbation of the House, 
absent themselves from the service of 
the House, for the avoiding the great 
and many inconveniences, which other- 
wise apparently might have happened : 
Since which time a printed paper in 
the form of a proclamation hath issued 
out for the apprehending and imprison- 
ing of them, therein suggesting that 
through the conscience of their own 
guilt they were absent and fled, not 
willing to submit themselves to justice : 
We do further declare that the said 
printed paper is false and scandalous 
and illegal." . . . 

On Thursday the 6th of January, the 
Committees of both houses met at 
Guild Hall. . . . 

This Thursday night being the 6th 
of January, I desire might never be 
forgotten. For in the dead time of the 
night there was great bouncing at every 
man's door to be up in their arms pres- 
ently, and to stand on his guard, both 
in the City and Suburbs, for we heard 
(as we lay in our beds) a great cry in 
the streets that there were horse and 
foot coming against the city. So the 
gates were shut, and the cullisses let 
down, and the chains put across the 



84 



Charles I. 



corners of our streets, and every man 
ready on his arms. And women and 
children did then arise, and fear and 
trembling entered on all. And some 
took such fright that night that it cost 
them their lives; as Alderman Adams 
his wife, my neighbour, she took such 
a fright that night that she died of it 
the next Tuesday at tive o'clock in the 
morning. And although some might 
slight, jest, and scoff at this, and think 
and say there was no cause, and that 
we were more fright than hurt ; yet it 
is certain enough, that had not the 
Lord of His mercy stirred us up to 
bestir ourselves, it would have gone 
hard enough with us. Again there was 
great cause of fear, being but a day or 
two since the King in a rage went with 
his five hundred soldiers with their pis- 
tols and swords, intending death to 
those five good men (Mr. Pym etc.) 
. . . and the King having hundreds of 
soldiers out of the north, of a fierce 
countenance, skilful to destroy ; and I 
heard of deadly weapons newly made, 
which were to be struck into the body, 
and could not be pulled out again. . . . 



15. Extracts from Whitelocke. 

Great numbers of people gathered 
together in a very tumultuous manner 
about Whitehall and Westminster ; and 
it was a dismal thing to all sober men, 
especially members of parliament, to 
see and hear them. 

The king fearing danger from them, 
or perhaps by the unfortunate counsel 
of papists as some reported, thought 
fit to remove to Hampton Court, and 



took with him the queen, prince, and 
duke of York. . . . 

The next day the five members were 
triumphantly brought from London to 
Westminster by water, by a great num- 
ber of citizens and seamen in boats and 
barges, with guns and flags, braving as 
they passed by Whitehall, and making 
large pi'otestations at Westminster of 
their adherence to the parliament. . . . 

The parliament were busy in debates 
touching the ordering of the militia for 
the several counties ; in which some 
declared their opinions that the power 
of the militia was' solely in the king, 
and ought to be left to him . . . others 
were of the opinion that the king had 
not this power in him, but that it was 
solely in the parliament, and that if the 
king refused to order the same accord- 
ing to the advice of the parliament, 
that then they by law might do it with- 
out him : and this was moved to be 
now done by the parliament. . . . 

Then they ordain the power of the 
militia, for defence of the parliament,, 
Tower, and city of London. . . . 

Aug. 22. The king at Nottingham 
erects his standard. . . . The earl of 
Essex's colours was a deep yellow, 
others setting up another colour were 
held malignants, and ill-affected to the 
parliament's cause. . . '. 

About the beginning of November 
the two princes palatine, Rupert and 
Maurice, arrived in England, and were 
put into command in the army of the 
king their uncle ; who had now got 
together a potent army. 

[Civil War.] 




tSlR'"'PRINCI.P^S' RirP£,R% nEI GllA.CO^ ., ^^.j^ATINj Rh£,NI, 
CL,-k JDornj C Ic-Ltorcil-L IJilx jDaUiLrLce. etc. INv ntLfiirttL- orcLitui 



Charles I. 



85 



GROUP XI. 



TRIAL AXD EXECUTIOX OF CHARLES I. 



I. Extracts from Whitelocke, 164S- 

9 A. D. 

. . . This morning Sir Thomas Wid- 
drington and I being together, Mr. 
Smith, who was clerk to the committee 
for preparing the charge against the 
king, came to us with a message from 
the committee, that they required us to 
come to them this day, they having 
some matters of importance wlierein 
they desired our advice and assistance ; 
and that we must not fail them. 

I knew wliat the business was, and 
I told sir Thomas Widdrington that I 
was resolved not to meddle in that busi- 
ness about the trial of the king; it 
being contrary to my judgment, as I 
had declared myself in the house. 

Sir Thomas Widdrington said he was 
of the same Judgment, and would have 
no hand in that business, but he knew 
not whither to go to be out of the way, 
and that the committee might not know 
whither to send to him. 

I replied, that my coach was ready, 
and I was this morning going out of 
town purposelj' to avoid this business, 
and if he pleased to go with me we 
might be quiet at my house in the 
country. . . . 

The council of war ordered, that 
nothing be done upon the knee to the 
king, and that all ceremonies of state 
to him be left off, and his attendance to 
be with fewer and at less charge. . . . 

The committee for drawing up a 
charge against the king, and to con- 
sider of the manner of his trial, re- 
ported an ordinance for attainting the 
king of high treason. . . . The charge 
was to this effect : 

That Charles Stuart had acted con- 
trary to his trust, in departing from the 
parliament, setting up his standard, 
making a war against them, and there- 
by been the occasion of much blood- 



shed and misery to the people whom 
he was set over for good ; that he gave 
commissions to Irish rebels, and since 
was the occasion of a second war, and 
had done contrary to the liberties of 
the subject, and tending to the destruc- 
tion of the fundamental laws and liber- 
ties of this kingdom. . . . 

This vote was passed as a foundation 
for these proceedings : 

That the lords and commons as- 
sembled in parliament, do declare and 
adjudge, that by the fundamental laws 
of this realm, it is treason in the king 
of England for the time to come, to 
levy war against the parliament and 
kingdom of England. . . . 

The ordinance for trial of the king 
was carried up to the lords, of whom 
sixteen then sat : they stuck much upon 
the declaratory vote. That it was 
treasoji in the king- to levy ivar against 
the parliament. . . . The commons 
taking notice that the lords had rejected 
their ordinance for trial of the king, 
and had adjourned their house, they 
sent some of their members to examine 
the lords' journal book, and they re- 
ported to the commons three votes 
passed by the lords : 

1. To send answer by messengers of their 
own. 

2. That their lordships did not concur to 
the declaration. 

3. That they had rejected the ordinance for 
trial of the king. 

Hereupon the commons voted, 
That all their members and others ap- 
pointed to act in any ordinance wherein the 
lords are joined with them, shall be em- 
powered and enjoined to sit, act, and execute 
in the said several committees of themselves, 
notwithstanding the house of peers join not 
with them. 

Order that the ordinance f >r trial of the 
king, and the declaration from which the 
lords dissented, and which are intended for 
both houses, shall now be by the commons 
only. ... 



S6 



Charles I. 



The commissioners for trial of the 
king met, and chose sergeant Bradshaw 
for their president, Mr. Steel to be 
attorney general, Mr. Coke solicitor- 
general, and they with Dr. Dorislaus 
and Mr. Aske to draw up and manage 
the charge against the king. . . . 

The high court of justice sat in the 
place in Westminster-hall made for 
them, the president had the sword and 
mace carried before him, and twenty 
gentlemen attended as his guard. . . . 

After an Ojes, and silence made, the 
act of the commons of England for 
sitting of the court was read, and the 
court was called, sixty of the mem- 
bers appeared. 

The king was brought from St. 
James's to Whitehall, and from thence 
by water, guarded with musketeers in 
boats. . . . 

He ■was charged in the name of 
Charles Stuart king of England^ 
as guilty of all the blood that had been 
shed at Kenton, Brentford, Newbury 
and other places . . . and other par- 
ticulars very large. 

The king smiled at the reading of 
his charge, and after it was read, de- 
manded of the president by what law- 
ful authority he was brought hither, 
and being answered, I)t the name of 
the commons of Englatid, 

He replied he saw no lords there 
which should make a parliament, in- 
cluding the king; and urged, that the 
kingdom of England was hereditary 
and not successive, and that he should 
betray his trust if he acknowledged or 
made answer to them, for that he was 
not convinced that they were a lawful 
authority. . . . 

(2nd hearing.) . . . The clerk of 
the coui't read this aloud : 

Charles Stuart, king of England, you 
have been accused on the behalf of the peo- 
ple of England of high treason and other 
crimes; the court have determined that you 
ought to answer the s-ame. 



King. I will answer the same, so soon as 
I know bj what authority you do this. 

President. If this be all that you would 
say, then, gentlemen, you tha,t brought tlie 
prisoner hither, take charge of him back 
again. 

King: I do require that I may give in my 
reasons why I do not answer, and give me 
time for that. 

President, It is not for prisoners to require. 
King. Prisoners! sir, I am not an oidi- 
nary prisoner. 

Presidetit. The court hath considered of 
their jurisdiction; and they have already 
affirmed their jurisdiction; if you will not 
answer, we shall give order to record your 
default. 

King.. You never heard my reasons yet. 
President. Sir, your reasons are not to be 
heard ag:iinst the highest jurisdiction. 

King. Shew me what jurisdiction, where 
reason is not to be heard. 

President. Sir, we show it you here, the 
commons of England; and the next time you 
are brought, you will kriow more of the 
pleasure of the court, and, it may be, their 
final determination. 

King. Show me wherever the house of 
commons were a court of judicature of that 
kind. 

President. Sergeant, take away the pris- 
oner. 

King. Well, sir, remember that the king 
is not suflfered to give in his reasons for the 
liberty and freedom of all his subjects. 

Presidetit. Sir, you are not to have liberty 
to use this language ; how great a friend you 
have been to the laws and liberties of the 
people, let all England and the world judge. 

King. Sir, under favour, it was the lib- 
erty, freedom and laws of the subject that 
ever I took to defend myself with arms ; I 
never took up arras against the people, but 
for the laws. 

President. The command of the court 
must he obeyed, no answer will be given to 
the charge. 

King. Well, sir. . . . 

[3rd hearing ] President. Sir, this is the 
third time that you have publicly disavowed 
this court, and put an affront upon it; but 
how far you have preserved the liberties of 
the people, your actions have spoke it; but 
truly, sir, men's intentions ought to be 
known by their actions; 30U have written 
your meaning in bloody characters through- 
out the kingdom. But, sir, 3'ou understand 
the pleasure of the court. Clerk, record the 



Charles I. 



87 



default. And, gentlemen, you that took the 
charge of the prisoner, take him back again. 

King. I will say this one word more to 
you, if it were my own particular, I would 
not say any more to interrupt you. 

President, Sir, you have heard the pleas- 
ure of the court, and you are (notwithstand- 
ing you will not understand it) to find that 
you are before a court of justice. . . . 

Jan. 27, 164S-9. 

The high court of justice sat in 
Westminster Hall, the president in his 
scarlet robe, and many of the commis- 
sioners in their best habit. 

After the calling of the court, the 
king came in, in his wonted posture, 
with his hat on ; as he passed by in the 
hall, a cry was made. Justice, justice ! 
Execution, executio?i ! This was by 
some soldiers and others of the rabble. 

After this the clerk was commanded 
to read the sentence, which recited the 
charge, and the several crimes of which 
he had been found guilty : 

For all which treasons and crimes, 
the court did adjudge, that he the said 
Charles Stuart, as a tyrant, traitor, 
murderer, and public enemy, shall be 
put to death by the severing of his 
head from his body. 

The king then desired to be heard, 
but it would not be permitted, being 
after sentence ; and as he returned 
through the hall, there was another cry 
for Justice and Execution. Here we 
may take notice of the abject baseness 
of some vulgar spirits, who, seeing their 
king in that condition, endeavoured, in 
their small capacity, further to promote 
his misery, that they might a little curry 
favour with the present powers, and pick 
thanks of their then superiors. . . . 

A prince is not exempt from the 
venom of these mad dogs. . . . 

I was much troubled at the passing 
of sentence of death against the king, 
and heartily prayed that it might not 
be executed. . . . 



The king's children came from Sion- 
house to visit him at St. James's ; he 
took the princess in his arms, and 
kissed her, and gave her two seals with 
diamonds, and prayed for the blessing 
of God upon her and the rest of his 
children ; and there was great weeping. 



2. Extracts from Warwick, Memoirs 
of the Reign of Charles I. Second 
Edition. Lond., 1703, p. 336 ff. 

By this traiterous and tumultuous 
body (the Commons) the King is 
brought to his tryall and removed from 
Windsor to St. James's and from thence 
soon brought to Westminster Hall : 
where he finds a pretended High Court 
of Justice, corisisting of a President, one 
Bradshaw (heretofore a very meanly 
qualified lawyer, but a bold and seditious 
person) and of Cromwell and most of 
his cheife officers, and some of the 
King's own faithless servants, as Sir 
Henry Mildinay, the Lord Mounson, 
Sir John Danvers, and Cornelius Hol- 
land (one that had been Clerk of his 
kitchen, and was then of the Green- 
Cloth) the rest high-flown Parliament- 
men. These to make their proceedings 
the more solemn, made their Serjeant at 
Armes in Westminster Hall, the old 
Exchange, etc., to summon in any 
person, that would come and accuse the 
King : and then they break his great 
Seal, and make one of their own, 
impressing upon it the Cross for Eng- 
land and the Harp for Ireland on the 
one side, and the House of Commons, 
as the true sovereigns of this nation on 
the other : and these words about it : 
The Jirst yeare of Ereedofne, etc., 
1648. Before this sort of vile men this 
good prince is brought : and injustice 
must necessarily sit on the bench, when 
justice is dragged to the barr. The 
insolent President bids the King hearken 
to his charge, and a babbling and brazen- 



88 



Charles I. 



faced Sollicitor, one Cook, accuseth him 
in the name of the Commons of Eng- 
land, and of all the people thereof 
(which God knows was not one of a 
thousand) of treason : charging him 
that by a tyrannicall power he had 
endeavoured to overthrow the rights and 
liberties of this people, and to defend 
himselfe in his traiterous practice, he 
had maliciously levied a warre. . . . 
The King smiled at the foule appella- 
tions of Tyrant, Traitor, etc. ... as 
their Sovereign and King, he denied any 
authority to be over him. . . . 

Bvit after all, these nefarious men, 
vi^ho thirsted after the King's blood, 
would now brutishly suck it : so then 
give sentence upon him to sever his 
head from his body, which sentence 
passed on Saturday, January, 164S; and 
he is carried back by his Guard unto St. 
James's. In the passage to his tryall, 
he is mett and reviled by some, and 
tobacco blown in his mouth, and his 
face spitt upon by others. One honest 
sojdier said but "God bless you, Sir," 
and his Captain caned him ; the King 
told the Captain the punishment ex- 
ceeded the offence. About the barr a 
numerous rabble cry out for justice 
against him, and in the Court he is 
saucily treated by all the Officers. 

The King's deportment was very 
majestick and steady ; and tho' his 
tongue usually hesitated, yet it was very 
free at this time, for he was never dis- 
composed in mind. And yet as he con- 
fest himself to the Bishop of London, 
that attended him, one action shockt 
him very much : for whilst he was lean- 
ing in the Court upon his staff, which 
had an head of gold, the head broke off 
on a sudden ; he took it up, but seemed 
unconcerned ; yet told the Bishop, It 
really made a great impression upon 
him, and to this hour (sayes he) I know 
' not possiblv how it should come. T' was 
an accident, I confess, I myselfe have 



often thought on, and cannot imagine 
how it came about : unless Hugh Peters 
(who was truly and really his Gaoler, 
for at St. James nobody went to him, 
but by Peters' s leave) had artificially 
tampered upon his staff ; but such con- 
jectures are of no use. 

. . . He required Mr. Herbert, (a 
Gentleman who was appointed to attend 
him, and who had bin very civill to 
him and whom he recommended like- 
wise to the present King) to call him at 
four of the clock in the morning ; and 
Mr. Herbert slept little himselfe, lying 
by him on a pallet-bed ; but observed 
through the whole night, that the King 
slept very soundly, and at his hour 
awak'd himself, and drew his curtain. 
He soon got up, was about an hour at 
his own private devotions, and then 
called to be drest ; and Mr. Herbert, 
who was \vont to comb his head, combed 
it that morning with less care than 
usually : Prethee (says he) tho' it be 
not long to stand on my shoulders, take 
the same p.iines with it, you were wont 
to do : "I am to be a Bridegroom to-day 
and must be trimm." 

Extract from Herbert's Memoirs. 
(London, 1815, p. 1S3. ) 

The King commanded Mr. Herbert 
to lie by his Bedside upon a Pallat, 
where he took small rest, that being the 
last Night his Gracious Sovereign and 
Master enjoy' d; but nevertheless the 
King for Four Hours or thereabouts, 
slept soundly, and awaking about Two 
Hours afore day, he opened his curtain 
to call Mr. Herbert ; there being a great 
Cake of Wax set in a Silver Bason, that 
then as at all other times, burned all 
night; so that he perceiv'd him some- 
what disturb' d in sleep, but calling him, 
bad him rise; For, (said his Majesty) I 
will get up, having a great Work to do 
this Day; . . . He then appointed what 
Cloaths he would wear; "Let me have 



Charles I. 



89 



a Shirt oiimore than ordinar}-," said the 
King, "by reason the season is so sharp 
as probably may make me shake, which 
some Observers will imagine pi"oceeds 
from fear. I would have no such 
Imputation. I fear not Death. Death 
is not terrible to me. I bless my soul I 
am prepared." . . . 

Warwick's Memoirs, Continued. 

When he was called, he marcht to 
the scaffold ; and a Gentleman of my 
acquaintance, that had so placed him- 
self in Wallingfordhouse, that he could 
easily discern all that was done upon the 
scaffold, protested to me, he saw him 
come out of the Banquetting-house on 
the scaffold with the same unconcern- 
ednes and motion, that he usually had 
when he entered into it on a Masque- 
night. And another Gentleman, whom 
I'le name, Dr. Farrar, a Physician (a 
man of a pious heart, but phancifuU 
brain : for this was he that would have 
had the King and Parliament have 
decided their business by lot) had 
gained such a place upon the stage, that 
he assured me, that as he had observed 
him before very majestick and steddy ; 
so when he had laid down his neck 
upon 'Jhe block, he standing at some dis- 
tance from him in a right line, he per- 
ceived his eye as quick and lively as 
ever he had seen it. . . . 



3. Extract from Whitelocke. 

Divers companies of foot and horse 
were on every side of the scaffold, and 
great multitudes of people came to be 
spectators : the king looked earnestly 
on the block, asked if there were no 
place higher, and, directing his speech 
to the gentlemen upon the scaffold, he 
■spake to this effect : [at great length.] 

Then turning to the officers he said. 
Sirs, excuse me for this same; I have a 

good ciu-e, and I have a gracious God: I 

will s V no more. 



Then turning to colonel Hacker, he 
said. 

Take care that they do not put me to pain, 
and, sir, this, and it please vou. 

Then a gentlemen coming near the 
axe, the king said, 

Take heed of the axe, pray take lieed of the 
axe. 

Then he said to the executioner, 

I shall say but very short prayers, and 
then thrust out my hands. 

Two men in disguise and ^■izors stood 
upon the scaffold for executioners. 

Then the king called to Dr. Juxon 
for his night-cap, and having put it on, 
he said to the executioner, " Does my 
hair trouble you.''" He desired it 
might all be put under the cap, which 
the king did accordingly, by the help 
of the executioner and the bishop. 

Then the king turning to Dr. Juxon 
said, 

I have a good cause and a gracious God on 
my side 

Dr. Juxou. There is but one stage more, 
this stage is turbulent and troublesome, it is 
a short one, but you may consider it will soon 
carry you a very great way, it will carry you 
from earth to heaven, and there you shall 
find a great deal of cordial joy and comfort. 

Kitig. I go from a corruptible to an in- 
corruptible crown, where no disturbance can 
be. 

Dr, Juxon, You are exchanged from a 
temporal to an eternal crown, a good ex- 
change. 

Then the king took off his cloak and 
his george, which he gave to Dr. Juxon, 
saying, Hetnember. Some other small 
ceremonies were passed, after which 
the king stooping down laid his neck 
upon the block, and after a very little 
pause, stretching forth his hands, the 
executioner at one blow severed his 
head from his body. 

The king died with true magnanim- 
ity and Christian patience ; his body 
was put in a coffin, covered with black 
velvet, and removed to his lodging 
chamber in Whitehall. At this scene 



90 



Charles I. 



were many sighs and weeping eyes, 
and divers strove to dip their handker- 
chiefs in Iiis blood, as in the blood of a 
martyr. 

Extract from John Milton. (Qiioted 
in Harris, Charles I., p. 4S4.) 

If you say that Charles died as he 
lived, I agree with you : if you say 
that he died piously, holily, and at 
ease, you may remember that his grand- 
mother Mary, an infamous woman, 
died on a scaffold with as much out- 
ward appearance of piety, sanctity, and 
constancy as he did. And lest you 
should ascribe too much to that pres- 
ence of mind, which some common 
malefactors have so great a measure of 
at their death, many times despair, and 
a hardened heart putting on, as it were, 
a vizor of courage, and stupidity a 
shew of quiet and tranquillity of mind : 
sometimes the worst of men desire to 
appear good, undaunted, innocent, and 
now and then religious, not only in 
their life but at their death ; and in suf- 
fering deatli for their villanies are wont 
to act the last part of their hypocrisy 
and cheats with all the show imagin- 
able ; and like bad poets, or stage- 
players, are very ambitious of being 
clapped at the end of the play. 



4. Letter from Joseph Kent, at 
Venice, to another Englishman abroad. 
(In Ellis, Original Letters. London, 
1827. Second Series, Vol. III. p. 

339-) 

Noble Sir : I humbly beg your par- 
don for my last weeks silence, for I 
vow to God I was so strangely sur- 
prised with grief, that I could not pre- 
vaile with my troubled minde for half 
an hours repose, to give you some re- 
lation of the sad and unexemplary 
murther of our Soveraign, whose soul 
is at rest. 



The Antwerp Post came this morn- 
ing, but without any Letters from our 
scandalous Island. I will impart with 
you what I have learnt from thence 
and Holland, concerning it. . . . 

Gregory the ordinary hangman of 
London was commanded to assist to 
the king's death, which he refused, but 
to invite him to it he was proffered 
two hundred pounds, which he would 
not hear of ; then they threatened to 
burn him, and at last imprisoned him, 
because he would not consent to so 
great a wickedness ; but a Judas will 
never be wanting, a Collonel formerly 
a brazier (to the great dishonour of 
the noble military art) with his servant 
a minister, both masked were those 
who cut the thread of His Majestit-'s 
life, and, in it, his loyal subjects hap- 
piness. A rogue of a minister, after 
his head was severed from his sacred 
body, elevated it publicly to the people ; 
and which is more inhuman, its written 
that the little Duke of Gloucester was 
placed against the scaffold to see his 
father sacrificed. . . . My humble duty 
and respects to noble Sir R. Wyllis, 
and all the other gentlemen of the na- 
tion, to whom I know you will impart 
this, although most hoiTid news. . . . 
Mr. Bayly very affectionately salutes 
Sir Richard and your noble self, to^ 
whom I will ever continue. 
Noble Sir, 
Your most affectionate and most 
humble servant, 

Jos. Kent. 
Venice the nth Marche, Thursday. 



5. Letter of James Howell to Sir 
William Boswell. (In Howell's Fa- 
miliar Letters, London 1893, Vol. II. 

P- 552-) 

Sir, That black Tragedy which was 
lately acted here, as it hath filled most 
hearts among us with consternation and 



Charles I. 



91 



horror, so I believe it liath been no less 
resented abroad. For my own partic- 
ular, the more I ruminate upon it, the 
more it astonisheth my imagination, 
■and shaketh all the cells of my Brain ; 
so that sometimes I struggle with my 
Faith, and have much ado to believe it 
yet. I shall give over wond'ring at 
anything hereafter, nothing shall seem 
strange unto me ; only I will attend 
with patience how England will thrive, 
now that she is let blood in the Basil- 
ical Vein, and cur'd, as they say, of 
the King' s-Evil. . . . 

Your most humble servitor 



Fleet, 20 March, 164S. 



J. H. 



6. Extracts from "The Confession 
of the Hangman concerning His be- 
heading his late Majesty the King of 
Great Brittain (upon his Death bed) 
who was buried on Thursday last, in 
white Chappel Churchyard, with the 
manner thereof." (In Ellis, ib. p. 

341-) 

Upon Wednesday last (being the 
20th of this instant June, 1649,) Rich- 
ard Brandon, the late Executioner and 
Hang-man, who beheaded his late 
Majesty, King of Great Brittain, de- 
parted this life ; but during the time of 
his sicknesse, his conscience was much 
troubled, and exceedingly perplexed in 
mind, yet little shew of repentance for 
remission of his sins and by-past trans- 
gressions, which had so much power 
and influence upon him, that he seemed 
to live in them, and they in him. And 
on Sunday last, a young man of his 
acquaintance going in to visit him, fell 
into discourse, asked him how he did, 
and whether he was not troubled in 
conscience for cutting off the king's 
head. He replyed, yes ! by reason 
that (upon the time of his tryall, and 
at the denouncing of Sentence against 
him) he had taken a vow and protesta- 



tion, wishing God to perish him body 
and soul, if ever he appeared on the 
Scaffold to do the act or lift up his 
hand against him. 

He likewise confessed that he had 
thirty pounds for his pains, all paid 
him in half-crowns within an hour 
after the blow was given ; and that he 
had an Orange stuck full of cloves, and 
a handkircher out of the king's pocket, 
so soon as he was carryed off from the 
Scaffold, for which Orange he was 
proffer' d twenty shillings by a gentle- 
man in White-hall, but refused the 
same ; and afterwards sold it for ten 
shillings in Rosemary Lane. 

About six of the clock at night, he 
returned home to his wife living in 
Rosemary lane, and gave her the 
money, saying, that it was the deer- 
est money that ever he earned in his 
life, for it would cost him his life. 
Which prophetical words were soon 
made manifest, for it appeared, that 
ever since he hath been in a most sad 
condition, and upon the Almighties 
first scourging of him with the rod of 
sicknesse, and the friendly admonition 
of divers friends for the calling of him 
to repentance, yet he persisted on in 
his vicious vices, and would not heark-. 
en thereunto, but lay raging and swear- 
ing, and still pointing J^ at one thing 
or another, which he conceived to ap- 
pear visible before him. 

About three days before he dy'd he 
lay speechlesse, uttering many a sigh 
and heavy groan, and so in a most des- 
perate manner departed from his bed of 
sorrow. For the buriall whereof great 
store of wines were sent in by the 
Sheriff of the City of London, and a 
great multitude of people stood wayting 
to see his corpes carryed to the church- 
yard, some crying out, "Hang him 
Rogue," " Bury him in the Dunghill ; " 
others pressing upon him, saying, they 
would quarter him for executing of 



92 



The Protectorate 



the king : insomuch, that the church- 
wardens and Masters of the Parish were 
fain to come for the suppressing of 
them, and (with great difficulty) he 
was at last carryed to White Chappell 
Church-yard, liaving (as it is said) a 
bunch of Rosemary at each end of the 
coffin on the top thereof, witli a rope 
tyed across from on end to tlie otlier. 
And a merry conceited Cock living 
at the sign of the Crown, having a 
black P'aa (worth the value of thirty 
shillings) took a resolution to rent the 
saine in pieces, and to every feather 
tied a piece of pack-thread dy'd in 
black ink, and gave them to divers per- 
sons, who (in derision) for a while, 
■wore them in their hats. 



Thus I have given thee an exact ac- 
count and perfect Relation of the Life 
and Death of Richard Brandon, to the 
end that the World may be convinc'd of 
those calumnious speeches and erro- 
neous suggestions which are dayly spit 
from the mouth of Envy against divers 
persons of great worth and eminency, 
by casting an odium upon them for the 
executing of the king ; it being now 
made manifest, that the aforesaid exe- 
cutioner was the only man who gave 
the fatall blow, and his man that 
■wayted upon him, was a ragman (of 
the name of Ralph Jones) living in 
Rosemary Lane. 



GROUP XII. 

CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OF OLIVER CROMWELL. 



I. Extract from Sir Ph. Warwick's 
Memoirs. (Edition of 1703, p. 247.) 

I have no mind to give an ill char- 
acter of Cromwell ; for in his conversa- 
tion towards me he was ever friendly ; 
tho' at the latter end of the day finding 
me ever incorrigible, and having some 
inducements to suspect me a tamperer, 
he was sufficiently rigid. The first 
time that ever I took notice of him was 
in the very beginning of the Parliament 
held in November 1640, when I vainly 
thought myselfe a courtly young Gentle- 
man : (for we Courtiers valued our- 
selves much upon our good cloaths). 
I came one morning into the House 
well clad, and perceived a Gentleman 
speaking (whom I knew not) very 
•ordinarily apparelled : for it was a 
plain cloth-sute, which seemed to have 
bin made by an ill country-taylor ; his 
linen was plain and not very clean ; 
and I remember a speck or two of 
blood on his little band, which was not 



much larger than his collar; his hatt 
was without a hatt-band, his stature 
was of a good size, his sword stuck 
close to his side, his countenance swoln 
and reddish, his voice sharp and un- 
tunable, and his eloquence full of fer- 
vor ; for the subject matter would not 
bear much of reason ; it being in 
behalf of a servant of Mr. Prvnn's, 
who had disperst libells against the 
Queen for her dancing and such like 
innocent and courtly sports ; and he 
aggravated the imprisonment of this 
man by the Council-Table unto that 
height, that one would have believed 
the very Government it selfe had been 
in great danger by it. I sincerely pro- 
fesse it lessened much my reverence 
unto that great councill ; for he was 
very much hearkened unto. And yet 
I liv'd to see this very gentlemen, whom 
out of no ill-will to him I thus describe, 
by multiplied good successes and by 
real (but usurpt) power : (having had 







''•Sv 



^:i I 






The Protectorate 



95 



a better taylor, and inoie converse 
among good ;ompany) in mine owne 
eye, wlien for six weeks togetlier I was 
a prisoner in liis Serjeant's liands, and 
daj'ly waited at Whiteliall, appeare of 
a great and majestick deportment and 
comeh' presence. Of fiim tlierefore 
I will saj' no more, but that verily I 
believe he was extraordinarily designed 
for those extraordinary things, which 
one while most wickedly and facinor- 
ously he acted, and at another as suc- 
cessfully and greatly performed. 



2. Extracts from Ludlow Memoirs, 
(Oxford, 1894). 

164S. May 21. 

In the mean time Lieutenant-General 
Cromwel not forgetting himself, pro- 
cured a meeting of divers leading men 
amongst the Presbyterians and Inde- 
pendents, both members of Parliament 
and ministers, at a dinner in Westmin- 
ster, under pretence of ende ivoring a 
reconciliation between the two parties. 
. . . Another conference he contrived 
to be held in King Street between those 
called the grandees of the house and 
army, and the Commonwealths-men. 
. . . The Commonwealths-men de- 
clared that monarchy was neithei good 
in itsself , nor for us. . . . Notwithstand- 
ing what was said, Lieutenant-General 
Cromwell, not for want of conviction, 
but in hopes to make a better bargain 
with another party, professed himself 
unresolved, and having learned what he 
could of the principles and inclinations 
of those present at the conference, took 
up a cushion and flung it at my head, 
and then ran down the stairs ; but I 
overtook him with another, which 
made him hasten down faster than he 
desired. . . . 

Lieutenant-General Cromwell, who 
had made it his usual practice to grat- 
ify enemies even with the oppression 



of those who were by principle his 
friends, began again to court the Com- 
monwealth party, inviting some of 
them to confer with him at his cham- 
ber : with which acquainting me the 
next time he came to the House of 
Commons, I took the freedom to tell 
him, that he knew how to cajole and 
give them good words when he had oc- 
casion to make use of them ; whereat 
breaking out into a rage, he said they 
were a proud sort of people and only 
considerable in their own conceits. I 
told him it was no new thing to hear 
truth calumniated, and that tho the 
Commonwealths-men were fallen under 
his displeasure, I would take the liberty 
to say that they had always been and 
ever would be considerable where there- 
was not a total defection from honest^,, 
generosity, and all true vertue, which I 
hoped was not yet our case. 

1651. 

. . . General Cromwel had long- 
been suspected by wise and good men ; 
but he had taken such care to form and 
mould the army to his humor and in- 
terests, that he had filled all places, 
either with his own creatures, or with 
such as hoped to share with him in the 
sovei'eignty, and removed those who 
foreseeing his design, had either the 
courage or honesty to oppose liijn in it. 
His pernicious intentions did not dis- 
cover themselves openly until after the 
battel at Worcester, which in one of his 
letters to the Parliament he called the 
Crowning Victory. At the same time 
when he dismissed the militia, who had 
most readily offered themselves to serve- 
the Commonwealth against the Scots, 
he did it with anger and contempt, 
which was all the acknowledgment 
they could obtain from him for their 
service and affection to the publick 
cause. In a word, so much was he^ 
elevated with that success, that Mr. 
Hugh Peters, as he since told me, took 



94 



The Protectorate 



so much notice of it, as to say in confi- 
dence to a friend upon the road in his 
return from Worcester, that Cromvvel 
would make himself king. He now 
began to despise divers members of the 
House whom he had formerly courted, 
and grew most familiar with those 
whom he used to show most aversion 
to. 

The Parliament now perceiving to 
what kind of excesses the madness of 
the army was like to carry them, re- 
solved to leave as a legacv to the people 
the Government of a Commonwealth 
by their representatives, when assem- 
bled in Parliament, and in the intervals 
thereof by a Council of State, chosen 
by them, and to continue till the meet- 
ing of the next succeeding Parliament, 
to whom they were to give an account 
of their conduct and inanagement. To 
this end they resolved, without any 
further delay, to pass the Act for their 
own dissolution ; of which Cromwel 
having notice, makes haste to the 
House, where he sat down and heard 
the debate for some time. Then call- 
ing to Major-General Harrison, who 
was on the other side of the House, to 
come to him, he told him, that he 
judged the Parliament ripe for a dis- 
solution, and this to be the time of 
doing it. 

The Major-General answered, as he 
since told me : ' Sir, the work is very 
great and dangerous, therefore I de- 
sire you seriously to consider of it be- 
foi'e you engage in it.' ' You say well,' 
replied the General, and thereupon sat 
still for about a quarter of an hour ; 
and then the question for passing the 
Bill being to be put, he said again to 
Major-General Harrison, ' This is the 
time I must do it ; ' and suddenly stand- 
ing up, made a speech, wherein he 
loaded the Parliament with the vilest 
reproaches, charging them not to have 



a heart to do anything for the publick 
good, to have espoused the corrupt in- 
terest of Presbytery and the lawyers, 
who were the supporters of tyranny 
and oppression, accusing them of an 
intention to perpetuate themselves in 
power, had they not been forced to the 
passing of this Act, which he affirmed 
they designed never to observe, and 
thereupon told them, that the Lord had 
done with them, and had chosen other 
instruments for the carrying on his 
work that were more worthy. This he 
spoke with so much passion and dis- 
composure of mind as' if he had been 
distracted. Sir Peter Wentworth stood 
up to answer him, and said, that this 
was the first time that ever he had heard 
such unbecoming language given to the 
Parliament, and that it was the more 
horrid in that it came from their ser- 
vant, and their servant whom they had 
so highly trusted and obliged : but as 
he was going on the General stept into 
the midst of the house, where, con- 
tinuing his distracted language, he said, 
' Come, come, I will put an end to 
your prating ; ' then walking up and 
down the House like a madman, and 
kicking the gi'ound with his feet, he 
cried out, ' You are no Parliament, I 
say you are no Parliament ; I will put 
an end to your sitting; call them in, 
call them in : ' whereupon the sergeant 
attending the Parliament opened the 
doors, and Lieutenant-Colonel Worsley 
with two files of musqueteers entred 
the House ; which Sir Henry Vane 
observing from his place, said aloud, 
' This is not honest, yea it is against 
morality and common honesty,' Then 
Cromwel fell a railing at him, crying 
out with a loud voice, ' O Sir Henry 
Vane, Sir Henry Vane, the Lord de- 
liver me from Sir Henry Vane.' Then 
looking upon one of the members he 
said, ' There sits a drunkard ; ' and 
giving much reviling language to others, 



The Protectorate 



95 



he commanded the mace to be taken 
away, saying, ' What shall we do with 
this bauble? here, take it away.' Hav- 
ing brought all into this disorder 
Major-General Harrison went to the 
Speaker as he sat in the chair, and told 
him, that seeing things were reduced 
to this pass, it would not be convenient 
for hirn to remain there. The Speaker 
answered that he would not come down 
unless he were forced. ' Sir,' said 
Harrison, ' I will lend you my hand ; ' 
and thereupon putting his hand within 
his, the Speaker came down. Then 
Cromwel applied himself to the mem- 
bers of the House, who were in number 
between eighty and a hundred, and 
said to them, ' It's you that have forced 
me to this, for I have sought the Lord 
night and day, that he would rather 
slay me than put me upon the doing of 
this work.' . . . Cromwel having acted 
this treacherous and impious part, or- 
dered the guard to see the House cleared 
of all the members, and then seized 
upon the records that were there, and 
at Mr. Scobell's house. After which 
he went to the clerk, and snatching the 
act of Dissolution, which was ready to 
pass, out of his hand, he put it under 
his cloak, and having commanded the 
doors to be locked up, went away to 
Whitehall. 

1653. 

, . . After a few days a coun- 
cil of field-officers was summoned, 
whei-e Major-General Lambert having 
rehearsed the several steps and degrees 
by which things had been brought to 
the present state wherein they were, 
and pressed the necessity incumbent 
upon the army to provide something in 
the room of what was lately taken 
away, presented to them a paper in- 
tituled, ' An Instrument of Govern- 
ment,' w^hich he read in his place. 
Some of the officers being convinced 
that the contents of this Instrument 



tended to the sacrificing all our labours 
to the lust and ambition of a single 
person, began to declare their unwil- 
lingness to concur in it. . . . This In- 
strument appointed the legislative power 
to be in the Representatives of the peo- 
ple and the Protector; that a Parlia- 
ment should be chosen every three 
years, which should sit five months, if 
they thought fit, without any interrup- 
tion : that their first meeting should be 
on the thirteenth of September next 
ensuing : that the members of whom 
the Parliament was to consist, should 
be chosen by the people : that whatso- 
ever they would have enacted, should 
be presented to the Protector for his 
consent. ... It provided also that all 
writs should issue out in the Protector's 
name : that most of the magistrates 
should be appointed, and all honours 
conferred by him : that he should have 
the power of the militia by sea and 
land : that in the intervals of Parlia- 
ment the nation should be governed by 
the Protector and his council. . . . 

Things being thus prepared, the 
Mayor and Aldermen of London -were 
required to attend at Whitehall in their 
scarlet gowns. . . . After the General 
had heard the Instrument of Govern- 
ment read, and taken the oath as 
directed in the close of the said Instru- 
ment, Major-General Lambert kneeling 
presented him with a sword in the 
scabbard, representing the civil sword ; 
which Cromwel accepting, put off his 
own, intimating thereby that he would 
no longer rule by the military sword, 
tho' like a false hypocrite he designed 
nothing more. 



3. Speech of Cromwell on opening 
the Parliament of 1654. (In White- 
locke Memorials. Vol. IV. p. 133.) 

After the sermon . . . his highness 
[Cromwell] went in the same equipage 
to the painted chamber, where he was 



96 



The Protectorate 



seated in a chair of state set upon steps, 
and the tnemliers upon benches round 
about t-at all bare; all being silent, his 
highness put off his hat, and made a 
large and subtle speech to them : 

He told them the danger of the level- 
ling principles, and of the fifth-mon- 
archy opinions, and of the form of 
godliness, and the great judgment that 
hath been upon this nation of ten years' 
civil war. . . . 

The common enemy in the mean- 
time sleeps not, swarms of Jesuits 
come over, and have their consistories 
abroad to rule all the affairs of Eng- 
land and the dependancies thereof. . . . 

In such an heap of confusion was 
this poor nation ; and that it might not 
sink into a confusion from these prem- 
ises a remedy must be applied. A 
remedy hath been applied, this gov- 
ernment. A thing that ... is calcu- 
lated for the interest of the people, for 
their interest alone, and for their good, 
without respect had to any other inter- 
■est. . . . 

It hath put a stop to that heady way, 
for every man that will to make him- 
self a preacher, having endeavored to 
settle a way for approbation of men of 
piety and fitness for the work. . . . 

It hath taken care to expunge men 
unfit for that work, who have been the 
common scorn and reproach to that 
administration. . . . 

One thing more : it hath been in- 
strumental to call a free parliament ; 
blessed be God, we see here this day a 
free parliament ; and that it may con- 
tinue so, I hope, is in the heart of 
every good man of England : for my 
own part, as I desired it above my life, 
so to keep it free I shall value it above 
my life. . . . 

These things [treaties, etc.] which I 
have before mentioned, are but en- 
trances and doors of hope ; you are 
brought to the edge of Canaan, (into 



which many that have gone before 
could not enter,) but if the blessing 
and presence of God go along with you 
in management of your affairs ; I make 
no question but he will enable you to 
lay the topstone of this v^'ork. . . . 

The great end of calling this parlia- 
ment is, that the work of God may go 
on, that the ship of this commonwealth 
may be brought into a safe har- 
bour. . . . 

I shall conclude with my persuasion 
to you, to have a sweet, gracious, and 
holy understanding one of another, and 
put you in mind of the counsel you 
heard this day in order thereunto. And 
I desire you to believe that I speak not 
to you as one that would be a lord 
over you, but as one that is resolved to 
be a fellow-servant with you to the 
interest of this great affair. 



2. Proceedings of the Parliament of 
1654. (From Journal of Guibon God- 
dard. Printed with Burton's Diary. 
London, 182S.) 

Tuesday, Sept. 5, 1654. 

The House met, and first called over 
all their members, and then the de- 
faulters, of which there were not above 
three score, of such as were re- 
turned. . . . 

. . . Occasion was taken by some 
members to tell us that, until that time 
they had not so much as heard the 
name of iny Lord Protector within 
those walls, and intimating, as if there 
had been some reflections upon the 
Government. . . . They therefore, 
(from Court especially, and from the 
soldiery and lawyers,) pressed hard, 
that the Government, or Instrument of 
Government, might be speedily taken 
into consideration, and some return 
made to my Lord Protector, of thank- 
fulness for his late speech. 



The Protectorate 



97 



Sept. 6. The House beincr met, and 
the oi'dei" for taking the Government in- 
to consideration being first read, it was 
moved by some, that there was some- 
thing that lay in the way which might 
hinder the freedom of that debate, 
nameh', an Ordinance, so called, made 
by the Lord Protector and his coimcil, 
whereby it was made High Treason for 
any man to speak against the present 
Government. 

Which occasioned many discourses 
concerning the freedom of speech in 
Parliament, it being alleged, that that 
was the first-born privilege of a parlia- 
ment, and the veiy heart-s'trings of it. 
In fine it was so allowed on all sides, 
and that no law or power from without 
could impeach any member, for any 
syllable spoken within those walls. . . . 

Sept. 7. 

The debate of the main question was 
taken up [whether the Government by 
a single person and a Parliament 
should be approved]. . . . 

Much debate was about the word 
"approving" in the question, as if it 
were not Parliamentary, nor for the 
honour of the House, to approve of 
anything which takes not its foundation 
and rise from themselves. . . . Instead 
of " a single person and a Parliament," 
they would have "the Parliament" 
preferred, and the words stand, "that 
the Government should be in the Par- 
liament of the people of England etc. 
and a single person, qualified with such 
instructions as the Parliament should 
think fit." Which last words were 
exceedingly pressed to be added ; and 
plainly the generality of voices and sense 
of the House seemed to incline that 
way. 

Sept. 9. 

It now began to be visible, that the 
interest of the single person did plainly 
lose ground ; for not only the word 



"approved" was disrelished on all 
hands, but they began to break the 
question, and to distinguish the word 
"Government" into the legislative 
power and the executive power. The 
first was generally thought, with all the 
reason in the world, to be the right of 
the Parliament alone, without commu- 
nicating the least part of it to any single 
person in the world. . . . 

Sunday, Sept. 10. 
The parsons generally prayed for the 
Parliament to strengthen their hands 
and enlarge their hearts ; to send them 
that had wisdom, zeal; and them 
that had zeal, wisdom ; bi t not much 
concerning the single person, as was 
observed. 

Sept. 1 1 . 

The House . . . was resolved again 
into a Grand Committee to debate the 
former question ; wherein the House 
did proceed with a great deal of inge- 
nuity, modesty, and candour ; and this 
cannot be denied, but [is] fit to be remem- 
bered to all ages. It was agreed on 
all hands . . . that in the considera- 
tion of this question, two things were 
to be considered of, verum^ et boniim. 

The verum, that is the truth of it 
was, that the legislative power was in 
the House of Commons, in Parliament 
alone, and so was acknowledged and 
settled. But for the bonum of it, 
whether it were now convenient or ex- 
pedient, per hie et nunc. That was 
very advisable. The arguments on 
both sides, were rationally and pruden- 
tially urged. . . . 

Sept. 1 2th . . . going by water to 
Westminster, I was told that the Par- 
liament doors were locked up and 
guarded with soldiers, and the barges 
were to attend the Protector to the 
Painted chamber. As I went, I saw 
two barges at the Privy Stairs. Being 
come to the Hall, I was confirmed in 
what I had heard. Nevertheless, I did 



98 



The Protectorate 



purpose not to take things merely upon 
trust, but would receive an actual re- 
pulse, to confirm my faith. 

Accordingly, I attempted up the Par- 
liament stairs, but there was a guard 
of soldiers, who told me there was no 
passage that way ; that the House was 
locked up, and command given to give 
no admittance to any. That, if I were 
a member, I might go to the Painted 
chamber, where the Protector would 
presently be. 

The mace was taken away by Commis- 
sary-general Whalley. The Speaker 
and all the members were walking up 
and down the Hall, the Court of Re- 
quests, and the Painted chamber, ex- 
pecting the Protector's coming; the 
passages there, being likewise guarded 
with soldiers. 

The Protector coming about ten of 
the clock, attended with his officers, 
life-guard, and halberds, he took his 
place upon the scaffold, where it was 
before, and made a speech of about an 
hour and a half long, wherein he did 
not forbear to tell us, that he did expect 
and hope for better fruit and effect of 
our last meeting in that place than he 
had yet found ; that he perceived there 
was a necessity upon him to magnify, 
as he called it, his office. He told us- 
a large series of the providences of God 
and the suffrages of the people, which 
were so many witnesses, evidences, and 
seals, of his calling to the government, 
and which did cause him to put a greater 
value upon his title so derived, than 
upon the broken hereditary title of any 
prince whatsoever. That having re- 
ceived his office from God and froin 
the people, he was resolved never to 
part with it, until God and the people 
should take it from him. 

That it could not be expected, when 
he told us before that we were a free 
Parliament, that he meant it otherwise 
free than as it should act under that 



government. That those pitiful for- 
wardnesses and peevishnesses, which 
were abroad, he valued no more than 
the motes in the sun. But that the 
Parliament should now dispute his 
office under whose authority we were 
then met, was a great astonishment to 
him. 

That he was unwilling to break privi- 
leges ; but necessity had no law. 

He told us, he had ordered the Par- 
liament doors to be locked up and 
guarded, and had appointed an officer 
to take subscriptions to a recognition 
of his authority ; which being done 
might give us an entrance. Which 
being said, we were dismissed about 
eleven o'clock. 

His party, that is, courtiers and offi- 
cers of the army, and some others, 
presently subscribed. Before they ad- 
journed, which was about twelve of 
the clock, there were about one hun- 
dred subscriptions ; which being en- 
tered, they sent for the Speaker, who 
came, subscribed, entered, and ad- 
journed until two of the clock. 

In the meantime, the rest of the 
members consulted one another's judg- 
ments. I went to see what it was that 
we ^vere to subscribe unto. It was 
written in a long piece of parchment 
in these words, or to that effect, viz. : — 

"I do hereby freely promise and 
engage, that I will be true and faithful 
to the Lord Protector and the Common- 
wealth of England, Scotland and Ire- 
land, and that according to the tenor 
of the indentures whereby I am returned 
to serve in this present Parliament, I 
will not propose, or consent to alter 
the government as it is settled in a sole 
person and the Parliament." 

Our Norfolk members did not pres- 
ently subscribe, saving only Mr. Frere, 
who instantly subscribed it. The rest 
of our members did most of us dine 
together, purposely to consult what 



The Protectorate 



99 



was fittest to be done in so great an 
exigent, in order to the discharge of 
our trust. And, truly, the subscription 
was, in effect, no more than what we 
were restrained unto by our indentures, 
and the tiling would be done without 
us, and we had fairly contended for it : 
we had not given the question, but it 
was forced from us, and we were told 
that plainly it must be so. For these 
and several other considerations and 
reasons, which we thought ought to 
jDrevail with men preferring the peace 
of our countries and the safety of our 
people immediately concerned in this 
affair, before passions and humours, 
we thought fit rather to give way to 
the present necessity, and to comply 
with it by submitting than refusing. 
Accordingly we did subscribe, all ex- 
cept Mr. Woodhouse, Mr. Hobart, and 
Mr. Church. And although we con- 
demn the breach of privilege as much as 
any, yet ^ve doubt not but to acquit our- 
selves to God, and to our country, in so 
doing, rather than to put the nation into 
another combustion and confusion. 

After we had subscribed, we went 
into the House, and after some expres- 
sions of tenderness and respects to our 
fellow members without, we adjourned 
until Thursday morning, the next day, 
Wednesday, being the Fast. . . . 

Nov. loth, 1654. . . . It was voted : 
. . . That all bills agreed unto by 
the Parliament shall be presented to 
the said single person for his consent. 
And, in case he shall not give his con- 
sent thereunto, within twenty days after 
they shall be presented to him, or give 
satisfaction to the Parliament within the 
time limited, that then such bills shall 
pass into, and become laws, although 
he shall not give his consent thereunto. 
Provided such Bills contain nothing in 
them contrary to such matters wherein 
the Parliament shall think fit to give a 
negative to the Lord Protector. 



. . . The Court-party, against whom 
the vote was carried, were so much 
dissatisfied, and, indeed, so impatient 
that ... it was said by them, that 
this vote had destroyed the Govern- 
ment. The very foundation upon 
which we rest would receive so great a 
wound by it, as nothing now that we 
could do, subsequently, could cure it. 
We had, as much as a vote could do, 
unmade the Protector. So fatal, and 
so mortal was this ■wound to the Gov- 
ernment, in the opinion of some, that 
one, a person of honour and nobility, 
did wish he could have redeemed that 
wound with a pound of the best blood 
in his body. 

It was often and soberly pressed by 
the other side, that they saw no cause 
for such tragical apprehensions, that 
the fears seemed panic, and the wound 
they spake of, invisible. . . . Yet 
nothing would satisfy the court-party, 
but in great confusion and discontent, 
they cried out for an adjournment, giv- 
ing the whole business lost, and presag- 
ing an ominous and sudden dissolution. 

But, after some heats were over, the 
more moderate of either side fell to ex- 
pedients. Amongst which, some were 
inconsequent things, and destructive 
•wholly to the former vote. But, in 
fine ... it was proposed, 

I. To change the word "give" 
[Parliament shall think fit to ffive a 
negative, etc.] into " declare." 

3. Whereas Parliament is named 
alone in the proviso to declare the 
negatives, it was desired that the sin- 
gle person might be joined with 
them. . . . 

Saturday, Nov. 1 1 . 

It was moved that the former amend- 
ments be added to the former vote of 
yesterday. Some, to further the mo- 
tion, pretended that they themselves 
had been, the night before, surprised 
in the question and did not think it had 



lOO 



The Protectorate 



carried such a consequence in the man- 
ner of it. Others talked of fears and 
imminent dangers. To botli which, a 
member replied, something earnestly, 
saying, as to the first, he conceived it 
not Parliamentary, to retract a vote 
upon a 7ion futaretn ; for such as sate 
there were all supposed to be wise men, 
et incifie?itis est, dicere non putarem, 
and for the other arguments, of fears 
and jealousies, he conceived they were 
bugbears and brain-squirts, things not 
to affright such an assembly into any 
change in their councils ; which gave 
such offence and scandal to the court- 
party, as they questioned the gentle- 
man for it. 

Seine ado there was to have had him 
to the bar ; but Some excused him, and 
one especially, tartly enough, upon that 
old ground of nemo mortalium omnibus 
horis sapit, which was, a Rowland for 
an Oliver. Others desired that he 
inight but explain himself. To which 
it was answered, that that needed not. 
The gentleman that spoke before, had 
done it for him. 

After they had made themselves a 
little merry with these puns, at length 
they fell into a more serious considera- 
tion of the point. . . . 

At length the question was put for 
the amendment. It was agreed unto, 
nemime contradicente, so as the proviso 
then amended ran thus : — 

Provided that such Bills contain 
nothing in them contrary to such mat- 
ters wherein the said single person and 
the Parliament shall think fit to declare 
a negative to be in the said single per- 
son. 



4. Extracts from Ludlow. 

. . . (Cromwell) next asked me, 
wherefore I would not engage not to 
act against the present Government, 
telling me, that if Nero were in power. 



it would be my duty to submit. To 
which I replied, that I was ready to 
submit, and could truly say, that I 
knew not of any design against him. 
' But,' said I, ' if Providence open a 
way, and give an opportunity of ap- 
pearing in bt'half of the people, I can- 
not consent to tie my own hands before- 
hand, and oblige myself not to lay hold 
on it.' ' However,' said he, ' it is not 
reasonable to suffer one that I distrust 
to come within my house, till he assure 
me he will do no mischief.' I told 
him I was not accustomed to go to any 
house unless I expected to be welcome ; 
neither had I come hither but upon a 
message from him, and that I desired 
nothing but a little liberty to breathe in 
the air, to which I conceived I had 
an equal right with other men. He 
then fell to inveigh bitterly against 
Major Wildman, as the author of 
the petition from the army before- 
mentioned, reviling him with unhand- 
som words, and saying he deserved to 
be hanged ; and that he must secure 
me also, if I would not oblige myself 
never to act against him. I told him I 
had gone as far as I could in that en- 
gagement which I had given to Lieu- 
tenant-General Fleetwood ; and if that 
were not though'i sufficient, I resolved 
with God's assistance to suffer any ex- 
tremities that might be imposed upon 
me. ' Yes,' said he, ' we know your 
resolution well enough, and we have 
cause to be as stout as you ; but I pr:iy 
who spoke of your suffering?' ' Sir,' 
said 1, ' if I am not deceived, you men- 
tioned the securing of my person.' 
' Yea,' said he, ' and great reason there 
is why we should do so ; for I am 
ashamed to see that engagement which 
you have given to the Lieutenant- 
General, which would be more fit for 
a General who should be taken pris- 
oner, and that hath yet an army of 
thirty thousand men in the field, thaa 



The Protectorate 



lOI 



for one in your condition.' I answered 
that it was as mucli as I could consent 
to give. . . . 

1656. 

. . . About the same time Mr. 
Peters, who still kept fair with those 
at Whitehall, made me a visit ; and 
in our conversation about the public 
affairs I freely told him my opinion 
concerning the actions of Cromwel, 
endeavoring to make him sensible not 
only of his injustice, but great impru- 
dence, thus to sacrifice the common 
cause to his ambition, and by every 
step he had lately taken to strengthen 
the common enemy, Avhereby he would 
undoubtedly open a way for the return 
of the family of the late king, who 
would not fail to do all that revenge 
could inspire thein with : whereas if he 
had made use of his power to establish 
the just liberties of the nation, or could 
yet be persuaded so to do, he might 
live more honoured and esteemed, have 
the pleasure and satisfaction arising 
from so generous an action when he 
died, and leave his own family, together 
with the whole body of the people, in 
a most happy and flourishing condition. 
He confessed that what I had said was 
most true, but added, that there was 
not a man about him who had courage 
enough to tell him so : that for his part 
he had observed him immediately after 
the victory at Worcester to be so ele- 
vated, that he then began to fear what 
has since come to pass ; and that he 
told a friend with whom he then quar- 
tered in his return to London, that he 
was inclined to believe Cromwel would 
endeavor to make himself king. 



5. Extracts from Evelyn's Diary. 
April 9, 1655. 

I went to see ye greate ship newly 
built by the usurper Oliver, carrying 
96 brasse gtms, and 1000 tons burthen. 



In ye prow was Oliver on horseback, 
trampling 6 nations under foote, a 
Scott, Irishman, Dutchman, French- 
man, Spaniard, and English, as was 
easily made out by their several habits. 
A Fame held a laurel over his insulting 
head ; ye word, God with us. 

March 25th, 1657. 
. . . The Protector Oliver, now af- 
ecting kingship, ■ is petition'd to take 
the title on him by all his new-made 
sycophant lords, etc. but dares not for 
feare of the phanatics, not thoroughly 
purg'd out of his rebel! army. 

Dec. 25th, 1657. 

... I went to London with my 
wife, to celebrate Christmas-day, Mr. 
Gunning preaching. . . . As he was 
giving us ye holy sacrament, the chap- 
ell was surrounded with souldiers, and 
all the communicants and assembly 
surpriz'd and kept prisoners by them. 
... In the afternoone came Col. 
Whaley, Goffe,'and others from White- 
hall, to examine us one by one ; some 
they committed to ye Marshall, some 
to prison. When I came before them 
they tooke my name and abode, exam- 
in'd me why, contrary to an ordinance 
made that none should any longer ob- 
serve ye superstitious time of the Na- 
tivity (so esteem' d by them), I durst 
offend, and particularly be at Common 
Prayers, which they told me was but 
ye masse in English, and particularly 
pray for Charles Steuart, for which we 
had no Scripture. I told them we did 
not pray for Cha. Steuart, but for all 
Christian Kings, Princes, and Gov- 
ernors. They replied, in so doing we 
praied for the K. of Spaine too, who 
was their enemie and a papist, with 
other frivolous and insnaring questions 
and much threatning ; and finding no 
colour to detaine me, they dismissed 
me with much pitty of my ignorance. 



I02 



The Protectorate 



These were men of high flight and 
above ordinances, and spake spiteful 
things of our Lord's Nativity. As we 
went up to receive the Sacrament the 
miscreants held their muskets against 
us as if they would have shot us at the 
altar, but yet suffering us to finish the 
office of Communion, as perhaps not 
having instructions what to do in case 
they found us in that action. So I got 
home late the next day, blessed be God. 



6. Extracts from Ludlow. 

165S. 

. . . After the death of Mrs. Cley- 
pole it was observed that Cromwel 
grew melancholy, and also distempered 
with divers infirmities, particularly a 
malignant humour in his foot ; which 
hindring him from the exercises of 
walking or riding abroad, he obliged 
his physicians to endeavor to disperse 
it, which they endeavoring to do, drove 
it upwards to his heart. By this means 
he became desperately sick ; and as 
some about him had for a long time 
deceived others, so they now endeav- 
oured to impose upon God himself. 
For Dr. Goodwin, his creature and 
trencher-chaplain, used this expression 
in his prayer during the time of his 
sickness ; ' Lord, we beg not for his 
recovery, for that Thou hast already 
granted, and assured us of, but for his 
speedy recovery.' At this time I was 
in the county of Essex, and according 
to a former resolution I had taken, 
went to London to attend my father 
Oldsworth, and to bring him into the 
country, whither he designed to come 
with my mother Ludlow. On the 
Monday afternoon I set forward on 
my journey, the morning proving so 
tempestuous that the horses were not 
able to draw against it ; so that I could 
reach no farther than Epping that 
night. By this means I arrived not at 



Westminster till Tuesday about noon, 
when passing by Whitehall, notice was 
immediately given to Cromwel, that I 
was come to town. Whereupon he 
sent for Lieutenant-General Fleetwood, 
and ordered him to enquire concerning 
the reasons of my coming in such 
haste, and at such a time. Tlie Lieu- 
tenant-General accordingly desired by 
a message that I would come to him 
the next morning, which I did, and 
understood from him that Cromwel 
suspected I was come with a design to 
raise some disturbance in the army, and 
that he was desirous to know the occa- 
sion of my journey. I assured him 
that as it was not in my power to 
cause any commotion in the arm}', so 
neither was it in my thoughts at this 
time ; and that I came to town in order 
to bring our family together into the 
country, according to a resolution taken 
a month since, and before I heard of 
Cromwel' s indisposition. He then told 
me, that the Protector had been ill, but 
that it was now hoped he was recover- 
ing. I said, that I wished him so well, 
that I was not desirous he should die 
in the way he was in at present, and 
assured him, that I should be glad of 
the prolongation of his life, if he would 
employ it to the publick good, which 
ought to be more dear to us than life 
itself. 

At Whitehall they were unwilling to 
have it known that he was so danger- 
ously ill . . . certain it is that the 
Commissioners were not admitted till 
the Friday following, when the symp- 
toms of death were apparent upon him, 
and many ministers and others assem- 
bled in a chamber at Whitehall, pray- 
ing for him, whilst he manifested so 
little remorse of conscience for his 
betraying the publick cause, and sacri- 
ficing it to the idol of his own ambi- 
tion, that some of his last words were 
rather becoming a mediator than a 



The Protectorate 



103 



sinner, recommending to God the con- 
dition of tlie nation that lie had so 
infamously clieated, and expressing a 
great care of the people whom he had 
so manifestly despised. But he seemed 
above all concerned for the reproaches 
he said men would cast upon his name, 
in trampling on his ashes when dead. 
In this temper of mind he departed 
this life about two in the afternoon ; 
and the news of his death being brought 
to those who were met together to pray 
for him, Mr. Sterry stood up and 
desired them not to be troubled. For, 
said he, ' this is good news ; because if 
he was of great use to the people of 
God when he \vas amongst us, now he 
wll be much more so, being ascended 
to Heaven to sit at the right hand of 
Jesus Christ, there to intercede for us 
and to be mindful of us on all occa- 
sions.' 

. . . One of the first acts of the 
new government was, to order the fu- 
neral of the late usurper ; and the 
Council having resolved that it should 
be very magnificent, the care of it was 
referred to a committee of them, who 
sending for Mr. Kinnersly master of 
the wardrobe, desired him to find out 
some precedent by which they might 
govern themselves in this important 
affair. After examination of his books 
and papers, Mr. Kinnersly, who was 
suspected to be inclined to popery, 
recommended to them the solemnities 
used upon the like occasion for Philip 
the Second, King of Spain, who had 



been represented to be in purgatory for 
about two months. In the like manner 
was the body of this great reformer 
laid in Somerset-House : the apartment 
was hung with black, the day-light was 
excluded, and no other but that of wax 
tapers to be seen. This scene of pur- 
gatory continued till the first of Novem- 
ber, which being the day preceding 
that commonly called All Souls, he 
was removed into the great hall of the 
said house, and represented in effegie, 
standing on a bed of crimson velvet 
covered with a gown of the like coloured 
velvet, a scepter in his hand, and a 
crown on his head. That part of the 
hall wherein the bed stood was railed 
in, and the rails and ground within 
them covered with crimson velvet. 
Four or five hundred candles set in flat 
shining candle-sticks were so placed 
round near the roof of the hall, that 
the light they gave seemed like the 
rays of the sun : by all which he was 
represented to be now in a state of 
glory. This folly and profusion so far 
provoked the people, that they threw 
dirt in the night on his escucheon that 
was placed over the great gate of 
Somerset House. I purposely omit 
the rest of the pageantry, the great 
number of persons that attended on the 
body, the procession to Westminster, 
the vast expence in mourning, the state 
and magnificence of the monument 
erected for him, with many other 
things that I care not to remember. 



I04 



The Protectorate 



GROUP XIII. 



SPECIMENS OF PARLIAMENTARY PROCEEDINGS UNDER THE COMMONWEALTH. 



Extracts from Goddard's and Bur- 
ton's Diaries. (London, 1S2S.) 

Tuesday, Oct. 7, 1656. 

Resolved, that the consideration of 
the laws touching profane swearing, 
and the defects therein, be referred to 
the Committee for alehouses and drunk- 
enness. . . . 

That it be referred to the . . . Com- 
mittee [on servants' wages], to take 
into consideration the habits and fashions 
of servants and labourers, and to prepare 
a Bill for the remedying the abuses 

therein. . . . 

Thursday, 9th. 

Ordered, that Sir Thomas Honywood, 
a member of this House, have leave to 
go into the country for fourteen days, 
to bring up his lady and family. 

Thursday, i6th. 
Ordered that it be referred to a Com- 
mittee, to revise the statutes touching 
wandering, idle, loose and dissolute 
persons, beggars, rogues and vagabonds. 

That it be referred to the same Com- 
mittee, to consider of, and provide a 
Bill, for redress of the evils by such 
persons as live at very high rates, and 
have no visible estate, profession, or 
calling suitable thereunto. . . . 

Monday, 20th. 
. . . Colonel Jephsdn acquainted the 
House with a book delivered at the door, 
in print, entituled "Thunder from the 
Throne of God, against the Temples of 
Idols," with an epistle in it directed to 
his Highness, the Lord Protector, and 
the Parliament of England ; which 
epistle was now read. 



Resolved, that Samuel Chidley be 
called in, to the bar. And he was, 
accordingly, called in. And being come 
to the bar, the book was showed him, 
who acknowledged he wrote the epistle ; 
and doth own it, and all that is in it ; 
and owns the book too, and all in it, the 
printer's errors excepted. 

Ordered, that this book, entituled 
"Thunder from the Throne of God, 
against the Temples of Idols," and the 
epistle of it, be referred to a committee, 
viz. : to Lord Commissioner Whitlock, 
etc. . . . 

Resolved, that Samuel Chidley be 
committed to the custody of the Serjeant- 
at-Arms attending this House. 

Friday, Nov. 21. 
Resolved, that no member of the 
House do remain in the Committee 
Chambers, during the time of prayers. 

Nov. 27. 

The Serjeant brings word, that Ser- 
jeant Dendy was at the door with a 
message from his Highness. And, 
thereupon he was called in. And, hav- 
ing made two obeisances to the House, 
when he came into the middle of the 
House, with his mace in his hand, he 
declared to Mr. Speaker, that he was 
commanded by his Highness the Lord 
Protector, to let this House know that 
his Highness is in the Painted Chamber, 
and desires to speak with this honour- 
able House. And thereupon with- 
drew. 

Which being done, Mr. Speaker, 
attended with the whole House, the 
Clerk with the Bills in his hand, and 
the Serjeant with his mace . . . went 
up to the Painted Chamber; where his 



The Protectorate 



105 



Highness, nttended wilh the Lord Presi- 
dent and the rest of the Council [etc., 
etc.] were expecting. . . . 

The Speaker addressed himself to his 
Highness, and gave an account of the 
employment of the House during their 
sitting ; and that many Bills for the 
public good were upon the anvil. . . . 

After which the Clerk read the title 
of the first Bill. . . . Which Bill his 
Highness caused to be read ; and upon 
reading thereof, declared to the Clerk 
liis consent to the same, in these words, 
"We do consent." And, thereupon, 
the Clerk made an entry thereof on the 
Bill, in these words, "The Lord Pro- 
tector doth consent." . . . 

The titles of the rest of the public 
Bills, first, and then the private Bills, 
were read. And to each of them his 
Highness' s consent thereunto declared, 
•entered, and published as before. 

. . . His Highness having made a 
short speech, the Speaker, with the rest 
of the members, departed in the like 
order as they came thither, to the Parlia- 
ment House. . . . 

Dec. 5th. 

. . . Mr. Fowell reported the bill 
from the committee, with amendments, 
touching rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy 
beggars. . . . 

Second Amendment, "Being wander- 
ing ten miles from his habitation." 

Second Amendment excepted against 
for too great a distance. . . . 

Major Audley. If you leave it in 
the power of justices to judge who shall 
be wanderers, for ought I know I my- 
silf may be whipped, if I be found but 
ten miles from my own house, unless 
the justice of the peace will allow my 
€xcuse. . . . 

Sir Richard Onslow and Mr. High- 
land. If you make new wanderers and 
vag.ibonds, other than ever our ancestors 
knew of, let us know what they are. . . . 
By these terminis gencraJihns^ any man 



may be adjudged by the justice to be a 
vagrant. 

Colonel Ed-Lvards. They have chain 
enough, keep them within their com- 
pass. If they know they have ten miles 
to rove in, by this means you give them 
forty miles circumference. 

Resolved, Not to agree with the com- 
mittee in ten miles distance. . . . 

Dr. Clarges. Give liberty for five 
miles, that you may suppress the 
Quakers, who greatly increase, and 
pester and endanger the Common- 
wealth. 

Major Audley. Ascertain what this 
individuum vagiim is, lest it be qjiidam 
ho7no, any man. I would have the 
persons ascertained. If they be Quak- 
ers, I could freely give my consent that 
they should be whipped. . . . 

Sir Thomas Wroth. Harpers should 
be included. 

Air. . Pipers should be com- 
prehended. 

Alderman Foote. I hope you in- 
tend not to include the zvaits of the 
City of London, which are a great 
preservation of men's houses in the 
night. 

Sir William Strickland. The gen- 
eral word minstrel will be best ; for if 
you go to enumerate, they will devise 
new instruments. 

Mr. Biitler. Music is a lawful 
science, and I love it ; but in regard 
you restrain it to those places, I think 
the general word will serve well 
enough. 

Mr. Highland. Add singing as well 
as playing. 

Colonel Whetham . I hope you will 
not deprive men of their voices. 

j\Ir. Speaker. Singing is a natural, 
playing an artificial music. . . . 

Resolved, To agree with the Com- 
mittee in all the amendments. . . . 

Ml-. Bamf field offered a repoit from 
James Nayler's Connnittee. . . . 



io6 



The Protectorate 



A Short history of JVayler' s Life. 

... 4. After he (Nayler) had been 
up and down, he went to visit the 
Qiiakers in Cornwall, where he was 
committed as a wanderer. . . . 

The articles against him read, and 
summed thus — That he assumed the 
gesture, words, names, and attributes 
of our Saviour Christ. 

Major- General Skippon. I do not 
marvel at this silence. Every man is 
astonished to hear this report. I am 
glad it is come hither. I hope it will 
mind you to look about you now. It 
is now come to your doors, to know 
how you that bear witness of Christ, 
do relish such things. God's dis- 
pleasure will be upon you if you do 
not lay out your especial endeavours 
in the things of God ; not to postpone 
them. You are cumbered about many 
things, but I may truly say this, utiuni 
necessariuni. 

It has been always my opinion, that 
the growth of these things is more dan- 
gerous than the most intestine or foreign 
enemies. I have often been troubled 
in my thoughts to think of this tolera- 
tion [of the Qiiakers] ; I think I may 
call it so. Their great growth and 
increase is too notorious, both in Eng- 
land and Ireland ; their principles strike 
both at ministry and magistracy. . . . 
I am as tender as any man, to lay 
impositions upon men's consciences, 
but in these horrid things. I have 
been always against laws for matters 
ex post facto ; but in this I am free to 
look back, for it is a special emergency. 
This offence is so high a blasphemy, 
that it ought not to be passed. For 
my part, I am of opinion that it is 
horrid blasphemy. . . . 

Major- General Boteler. . . . We 
all sit here, I hope, for the glory of 
God. My ears did tingle, and my 
heart tremble, to hear the report. I 
am satisfied that there is too much of 



the report true. I have heard many 
of the blasphemies of this sort of people, 
but the like of this I never heard of. 
The punishment ought to be adequate 
to the offence. By the Mosaic law, 
blaspheiners were to be stoned to 
death. . . . For my part, if this sen- 
tence should pass upon him, I could 
freely consent to it. . . . 

They [the Qiiakers] are generally 
despisers of your Govermnent, con- 
temn your magistracy and ministry, 
and trample it under their feet. 

The magistrate is to be a terror unto 
evil works. If we punish murder and 
witchcraft, and let greater offenses go, 
as heresies and blasphemy, which is 
under the same enumeration ; for my 
part, I could never reconcile myself 
nor others to leave out the latter and 
punish the former offences. . . . 

Mr. Downing. . . . You know 
what the Parliament did with a Straf- 
ford in civil cases, and what the Par- 
liament has done against corrupt judges. 
If ever there was a business for a Par- 
liament, this is it. To supplant your 
God, oh, horrid ! . . . 

Colonel White. There is something 
omitted in the Report which Nayler 
said, and that to me seemed as blas- 
phemous as anything: that "the old 
bottles were broken, and new wine 
poured in;" intimating that he is the 
new Christ, and the old one laid aside. 
... If you make the sentence death, 
I think he very well deserves it. I 
shall give my Yea. . . . 

Lord Stickland [after five others 
had spoken]. This seems not reason- 
able, that a man should first be con- 
demned, and then heard. I would 
have him called to the bar, to hear 
what he will say to the Report. 

Mr. Speaker [after four others]. 
If you call him to the bar, and he deny 
it, then you must go over all the charge 
and the evidence. . . . 



The Protectorate 



107 



Air. Bampjield. ... If either you 
refer it back again to the Committee, 
or call the party to the bar, you must 
travel into all the evidence, and so 
render the whole matter fruitless. He 
has been three times before us, and the 
Committee vras every time more sat- 
isfied of the horridness of the blas- 
phemy. . . . 

Lord- Chief -J u s t i c e . . . . That 
which sticks with me is, whether there 
is a witness against him at all ; not one 
against him upon oath. . . . 

J/aj'or- General Packer. The Re- 
port is a sufficient charge against him. 

[After iS other speeches the debate 
was adjourned to the next day. Lord 
Lambert had said about Nayler " He 
was two years my quartermaster, and 
a very useful person. We parted with 
him with great regret. He was a man 
of a very unblameable life and conver- 
sation, a member of a very sweet society 
of an independent church. How he 
comes (by pride or otherwise) to be 
puffed up to this opinion I cannot 
determine. ... I shall be as ready to 
give my testimony against him as any- 
body, if it appear to be blasphemy."] 

Dec. 6th. 

Air. Bampjield. The calling him 
to the bar is but a mean to delay the 
business. . . . He confessed that the 
woman [who was said to have wor- 
shipped him] said these words and 
expressions, which Mr. Piggott, by 
Providence, came to the Committee 
and informed ; " Rise up, my love, my 
dove, my fairest one, why stayest thou 
amongst the pots ; " only he denied the 
woman's kissing his hand. 

Mr. Croke. ... By all rules of 
law and justice, you ought first to call 
him to the bar; haply he may deny 
matter of fact, haply matter of law. 
He may say it is not blasphemy. . . . 



Sir Gilbert Pickering. I move 
that it may be respited till Monday. 
It is now twelve, and it will take your 
time so long that you will be forced to 
sit as long as you did yesterday, which 
will not agi-ee with many men's healths 
that are here. . . . 

Resolved, That Nayler be forthwith 
called to the bar and have the charge 
read to him, whereunto he is to give 
his answer Yea or No. . . . 

James Nayler being brought to the 
bar, refused to kneel or to put off his 
hat. The House agreed beforehand 
that they would not insist upon his 
kneeling . . . but commanded the Ser- 
jeant to take off his hat. 

[After the hearing.] 

Sir William Strickland. Nothing 
has been reported from the Committee, 
but is, to a grain, agreed by the party's 
own confession at the bar. . . . You 
have now hell groaning under expecta- 
tion of this issue, what you will do in 
this business. . . . 

Air. Do'ivni7ig. You are judge and 
jury. You have heard the prisoner at 
the bar, and will you leave the business 
in the midst, after issue joined.? . . . 
Are not juries kept without meat and 
drink ; yea, carried from cart to cart, 
county to county, till they agree in 
lesser matters. 

Air. Speaker. I remember what a 
gentleman in another Parliament said 
of the result of our long debates, that 
it was but as the verdict of a starved 
jury. It will not be so with us, for 
many members have dined, though 
others fast. . . . 

Dec. 8. 

Lord Whitlock [author of the "Me- 
morials"]. . . . To give a judgment 
in point of life, no law being in force 
to that purpose, my humble opinion is, 
to go by way of bill. . . . The Grand 



io8 



The Protectorate 



Committee, if you please, may appoint 
the punishment. . . . The like case 
was the Bishop of Rochester's cook, 
who, by Act of Parliament, had new 
punishment appointed him (i. e.) to 
be boiled in a hot lead. . . . 

Major Beake. I conceive you ought 
first to determine the offence, what it 
is, and then prepare a proportionable 
punishment. ... I conceive the judg- 
ment of Parliament is so sovereign, 
that it may declare that to be an offence 
-which never was an offence before. 
The Roman senate did the like in cases 
of parricide. ... 

Captain Baynes. . . . You saw 
how he behaved himself at the bar. 
Not a cap to you, though ye be gods in 
one sense ; yet he will t.ike cap, knee, 
kisses, and all reverence. His distinc- 
tion of visible and invisible makes his 
blasphemy plain. . . , God could have 
made him a pillar of salt immediately, 
if he had ple;ised ; have struck him 
dead, but he has left it to you to vindi- 
cate his honour and glory. Now see 
what you will do. This is the day of 
temptation and trial of your zeal. . . . 

Lord President. This gentleman 
has spoken very zealously, yet they 
were honest men, too, that called for 
fire from Heaven, and we know how 
they were reproved. I have lived some 
time in the world, and seen what is 
abroad, and how careful wise men 
have been in proceeding in this kind. 

I wonder why any man should be so 
amazed at this. Is not God in every 
horse, in every stone, in every creature? 
... If you hang every man that says, 
Christ is in you the hope of glory ., you 
will hang a good many. . . . Read the 
Report over, and let every man give his 
re isons why such a part is blasphemy. 

Alajor General Skippon. By the 
rule that this honourable person offers, 
none shall meddle at all in matters of 
religion. . . . 



Mr. Bacon. ... It is much contro- 
verted here, whether a law may be made 
for a matter ex post facto. Nothing 
more ordinary in a Parliament. Was it 
not the case of the Bishop of Rochester's 
cook.'' He made broth which poisoned 
all the family, and the beggars at the 
gates. Here was a law made, both £or 
the offence and the punishment. . . . 

Colonel Sydetiham. . . . These 
Qiiakers, or Familists, affirm that 
Christ dwells personally in every be- 
liever. That which I fear is, to draw 
this down into precedent, for, by the 
same ground, you may proceed against 
all of that sect. Again, that which 
sticks most with me, is the nearness of 
this opinion to that which is a most 
glorious truth, that the spirit is person- 
ally in us. ... If some of those Par- 
liaments were sitting in our places, I 
believe they would condemn most of 
us for heretics. ... I fear this long 
debate will make them without say, 
one half of the House are Qiiakers, 
the other half, anti-Qiiakers. , . . 

Dr. C/ar^ei- [after six others]. . . . 
You have here before you the greatest 
matter that ever came before a Parlia- 
ment. ... I shall speak no more ; but 
let us all stop our ears, and stone him 
— for he is guilty of horrid blasphemy ; 
nothing so apparent. ... 

Resolved [after 3 1 other speeches] 
that this debate be adjourned till to- 
morrow morning. 

Dec. 16. [After // days of heated 
discussion.] 

Colonel White, There has been 
enough said in this business. I de- 
sire you would put some Question or 
other. . . . 

The question for the lesser punish- 
ment being read. 

Colonel White proposed that his 
tongue might be bored through. 

Colonel Barclay., that his hair might 
be cut off. 



The Protectorate 



109 



^lajor- General Haines^ that his 
tongue might be slit or bored through, 
and that he might be stigmatized with 
the letter B. . . . 

Major- General VVhalley. Do not 
cut off his hair ; that will make the 
people believe that the Parliament of 
England are of opinion that our Sav- 
iour Christ wore his hair so, and this 
will make all people in love with the 
fashion. . . . 

Major- Ge7ieral Disbrowe. I doubt 
if you slit his tongue, you may endan- 
ger his life. It will be a death of a 
secret nature. 

Mr. Dozvning You ought to do 
something with that tongue that has 
bored through God. You ought to 
bore his tongue through. You punish 
a swearer so, and have some whipped 
through an affront to your members. 

Major Aiidley. It is an ordinary 
punishment for swearing. I have 
known twenty bored through the 
tongue. 

Resolved. That his tongue be bored 
through. 

Resolved. That he be marked with 
the letter B, in the forehead. 

Major- General Whalley proposed, 
that his lips might be slitted. 

Alderman Foote^ that his head may 
be in the pillory, and that he be 
whipped from Westminster to the Old 
Exchange. . . . 

Colonel CronixveUi that he may be 
whipped through the whole City from 
Westminster to Aldgate. 

Major- General Goffe, that he may 
also be restrained from society of 
women, as well as from men. . . . 

Colonel Shapcof, that his Bridewell 
may be at York, whence he came. 

Mr. Speaker and Sir Wm. Strick- 
land. He came not thence. I shall 
put it upon Bristol. . . . 



Sir Gilbert Pickering. Either be 
strict in this or you do nothing, for 
certainly this of Quakerism is as in- 
fectious as the plague. And that not 
only men, but women be kept from 
him. I have told you, it is a woman 
that has done all the mischief. 

Mr. Puller proposed, that he might 
be sent to Jamaica. . . . 

Sir Willia?n Strickland. ... I 
desire, rather, that he might be sent 
to Bristol. 

Mr. Highland. Those that come 
out of the North, are the greatest pests 
of the nation. The diggers came 
thence. 

Air. Robinson. I hope that gentle- 
man does not mean by his pests, all 
that come thence. He means not us, 
I hope. . . . 

Resolved, that London be the place. 

Resolved, that James Nayler be set 
on the pillory, with his head in the 
pillory, in the New Palace Westmin- 
ster, during the space of two hours on 
Thursday next, and be whipped by 
the hangman through the streets of 
Westminster to the old Exchange, 
London ; and there likewise, to be set 
upon the pillory ... in each of the 
said places, wearing a paper contain- 
ing an inscription of his crimes : and 
that at the old Exchange, his tongue 
shall be bored through with a hot iron, 
and that he be there also stigmatized 
. . . and that he be, afterwards, sent 
to Bristol and conveyed into and 
through the said city, on a horse bare 
ridged, with his face back . . . and 
. . . that he be committed to prison 
in Bridew^ell, London, and kept to 
hard labour till he be released by the 
Parliament : and, during that time, be 
debarred of the use of pen, ink, and 
pajDcr, and have no relief but what he 
earns by his daily labour. 



I lO 



The Protectorate 



Dec. 25th. 

. . . Col. Matthews. The House 
is thin ; much, I believe, occasioned 
by observation of this day. I have a 
short Bill to prevent the superstition 
for the future. I desire it to be read. 

Air. Robinson. I could get no rest 
all night for the preparation of this 
foolish day's solemnity. . . . We are, 
I doubt, returning to Popery. 

Sir William Strickland. It is a 
very fit time to offer the Bill, this day, 
to bear your testimony against it, since 
people observe it with more solemnity 
than they do the Lord' s day. . . . 

Major- General Packer., Major 
Atcdley, and Sir Gilbert Pickering-. 
. . . You see howr the people keep up 
these superstitious observations to your 
face. . . . One may pass from the 
Tower to Westminster and not a shop 
open, nor a creatvu-e stirring. . . . 



Dec. 26th. 

Mr. Speaker. ... I must acquaint 
you with a letter from the Lord Pro- 
tector. 

" Having taken notice of a sentence 
by you, given against one James Nay- 
ler, albeit we do abhor such wicked 
opinions and practices, we, being in- 
terested in the Government, desire to 
know the grounds and reasons how 
you proceeded herein without our con- 
sent." [Consternation in the House. — 
Ed.] 

. . . Major Audley. You ought 
not to have denied this person [Nay- 
ler] to have spoken when he desired 
it at the bar. Were he never so 
wicked, you ought to give him the 
liberty of an Englishman. I am sat- 
isfied, that though you have passed this 
sentence upon him, there may be much 
said against it. If he had been left to 
the law, it had been better. . . . 



Air. Lawrence . . . questioned the 
jurisdiction. He said there were but 
three powers ; arbitrary, we would not 
own ; legislative, is upon a joint au- 
thority by the Instrument. If by a 
judicatory power, we must have a 
law ; otherwise our proceedings are 
not justifiable. . . . 

Mr. Rotise. . . . Either you have 
done what you ought to have done in 
executing part of your sentence, or 
you have not. ... If you have done 
what you cannot justify, you must be 
whipped for whipping James Nayler. 
It was but a mock punishment. 

Colonel Holland. A merchant's 
wife told me that there was no skin 
left between his shoulders and his hips. 
It was no mock punishment. I could 
wish the business were ended amongst 
you, that the remainder of the punish- 
inent might be remitted, and that would 
give his Highness satisfaction. 

Sir Christopher Peck. I shall ac- 
quaint you with what the gaoler told 
me. There were but three places where 
the skin was any wa}^ hurt or broken, 
and it was no bigger than a pin's head. 
This gentleman is surely misinformed. 

Colonel Hewitson proposed, that a 
Committee might be appointed to find 
out a way how to give his Highness an 
account in this business. If the person 
was favoured in the punishment, it 
was the lenity of the executioner, not 
of the sentence, /was against it in my 
opinion. 

Sir William Strickland . It is not 
possible for us to stop the foul inouths 
of such a wicked generation. We are 
convinced of the justice of our pro- 
ceedings. . . . 

Air. Doxv7ii7ig. I ain sorry we have 
such a person in England as James Nay- 
ler, to give us all this trouble. Those 
that think his Highness' s letter seems to 
question why we passed this sentence 
without his consent, are mistaken. . . . 



The Protectorate 



1 1 1 



S/r John Reynolds. ... I think 
there was nothing of the punishment 
spared. . . . That is not the dispute 
before us. I would have us seriously 
to debate this matter, that we may give 
his Highness an account of it. The 
consequence is dangerous, if we should 
draw these things into precedent. 

Captain J3avnes. I was against 
bringing this business into the House 
at the first. . . . 

JM?-. Solicitor- General. . . . The 
whole question befoi'e you is, why a 
judgment, without my Lord Protector? 
The letter says, why a judgment with- 
out us. "We desire," saith the letter, 
" to know the grounds and reasons 
■whereupon j'ou made such a judgment." 
I desire that we might have leave to 
speak against your judgment. 

J]/r. Godfrey. This gentleman 
moves very properly to have leave to 
speak against the judgment. If you 
give this leave I cannot but tremble to 
think of the consequence. I am sorry 
this happens, for you to go about to 
arraign your own judgment. ... If 
you revoke this, you must not only cry 
peccavi to James Na^'ler for what is 
passed, but to his Highness also, and 
also to the nation. Here is your power 
asserted on one hand ; the supreme mag- 
istrate, on the other hand, desiring an 
account of your judgment. Where 
shall there be teriiiis arbiter? It is 
a hard case. No judge upon earth. 
I shall humbly move that a Committee 
might be appointed to acquaint his 
Highness with the sad consequences of 
such a dispute, and to desire him to 
lay aside the further questioning of 
this judgment. 

Mr. Attorney- General. We are 
bound up by our own judgment. We 
cannot speak against it, nor against the 
fact. You have asserted your judica- 
tory power. This is the first case. It is 
good it were now settled. I hear his 



Highness plead nothing for the fel- 
low. I think it were best first to whip 
him and then bring in a Bill to hang 
him. [A witticism ? — Ed.] . . . 

j\rr. Powell. . . . The House of 
Commons have, by their judicatory, 
liberty to pass greater sentences than 
this. . . . There was a case in the latter 
end of King James's time where one 
Floyd abused the Qiieen of Bohemia. 
. . . The House of Commons, of their 
own jurisdiction, proceeded to sentence 
him to ride backwards on a horse, with 
a paper, etc. . . . 

Air. Robinson. This is the most 
unfortunate business that ever came into 
this House. I was against it, at first 
. . . but I am not satisfied to give way 
to speak against the judgment. 

]\Ir. Goodwin. ... I have heard of 
a Parliament called Insanmn Parlia- 
mentuin. I wonder what his Highness 
will think of us, if we should not as- 
sert our jurisdiction. If we should rise 
without asserting our power, James 
Nayler may have his action against 
every individual member. Let us be- 
have ourselves like wise men. We 
have passed a judgment, and owned the 
jurisdiction. Let us not part with it. 

]\Ir. Rouse. We should return this 
short answer to his Highness' s letter, 
" We had power so to do." . . . 

Mr. Do-djni7ig. My heart is very 
full in this business. . . . We need 
not dispute our jurisdiction ourselves. 
There are enough to dispute it. The 
Instrument of Government is but new, 
and our jurisdiction is but new, too. 

Mr. Highland. ... If you assert 
not your own power, 3-ou will be a 
matter of laughter, both to wise men 
and fools. 

Dec. 37. 

Colonel Markham. ... It is an 
abominable thing to hear such unjust 
things informed to this House, as that 



I 12 



The Protectorate 



of his whipping so hard, or his being 
sick. I would have the merchant's 
wife that reported it sent for and 
whipped. ... I desire you would be 
so tender of your honour as to put that 
question. 

Lord Lambert. Calmness better be- 
comes this House. I like not these 
reflections. I desire the gentleman may 
explain himself. 

Colonel Markham stood up to jus- 
tify himself, and said he reflected upon 
no member, but only upon the mer- 
chant's wife. . . . 

Resolved, that the House be ad- 
journed till Tuesday. . . . 



The Committee for Mr. Scot and his 
wicked wife sat in the painted cham- 
ber. Mr. Godfrey had the chair (who 
once intended to have hanged her in 
the country.) Both parties appeared: 
She said, " How do you do, Mr. 
Scot .'' ' ' He answered little : no sweet- 
heart, dear, nor angel. This Com- 
mittee adjourned till this day se'n- 
night. . . . 

This day B. and I were to see Nay- 
ler's tongue bored through, and him 
marked in the forehead. He put out 
his tongue very willingly, but shrinked 
a little when the iron came upon his 
forehead. He was pale when he came 
out of the pillory, but high-coloured 
after tongue-boring. He was bound 
with a cord by both arms to the pil- 
lory. Rich, the mad merchant, sat 
bare at Nayler's feet all the time. 
Sometimes he sang and cried, and 
stroked his hair and face, and kissed 
his hand, and sucked the fire out of his 
foi'ehead. Nayler embraced his execu- 
tioner, and behaved himself very hand- 
somely and patiently. A great crowd 
of people there. 

[After much more excited debating 
about the judicial power of the Parlia- 



ment and the answer to be returned ta 
Cromwell, the matter is suddenly 
dropped. The Protector must have 
raised his wand. On Friday, Jan, 2, 
specially appointed for continuing the 
discussion, there is this irrelevant 
notice: "Resolved, that Judge Law- 
rence and Colonel Talbot be added to 
the Scotch Committee. Thus was ike 
business of the day jostled out, and 
nobody said a word to it. L hear it 
will never be mentioned again ; if if 
be, I dread the consequence. Absit." 
—Ed.] . . . 

Jan. 14th, 1656-7. 
. . . Robinson presented Hobbe's 
LeviatJian to the Committee, as a most 
poisonous piece of atheism. . . . 



Jan. 19. . . . 

Sir Gilbert Pickering and Major- 
General Boteler, moved that Wednes- 
day afternoon may be the time ap- 
pointed to wait upon his Highness, the 
whole House, to congratulate his deliv- 
erance [from one of the many attempts 
to assassinate him]. . . . 

Sir Gilbert Pickering. . . . There 
was a very good pattern propounded to 
us as to the manner of addresses to his 
Highness, upon another occasion, about 
three or four months ago. I confess I 
liked that method well. ... It was 
Major-General Goffe, upon the debate 
about the thanksgiving for the late vic- 
tory from Spain. . It was a long im- 
peachment, seriously invitingthe House 
to a firm, and a kind of corporal union 
with his Highness. Something was 
expressed as to hanging about his neck 
like pearls, from a text out of Canti- 
cles. [ Phy neck is like the tower of 
David . . . -whereon there hang a 
thousand bucklers. — Ed.] . . . 

Mr. Ashe, the elder. ... I 
would have something else added, 
which, in my opinion, would tend very 



The Protectorate 



113 



much to the preservation of himself 
and us, and to the quieting of all the 
designs of our enemies ; — that his High- 
ness would be pleased to take upon 
him the government according to the 
ancient constitution [i. e., become king. 
Ed.] ; so that the hopes of our ene- 
mies' plots would be at an end. Both 
our liberties and peace, and the pi-eser- 
vation and privilege of his Highness, 
would be founded upon an old and sure 
foundation. . . . 

Mr. Highland. That gentleman 
that moved this was one of those that 
w^as for the pulling down of what he 
would now set up again. That was 
Kings, Lords and Commons ; a consti- 
tution which we have pulled down 
with our blood and treasure. Will you 
make the Lord Protector the greatest 
hypocrite in the world ? . . . I desire 
this motion may die, as abominable. 
This will set all the honest people of 
this nation to weeping and mourning. 

. . . The debate fell asleep, I know 
not how, but I believe it was by con- 
sent, (as I heard Mr. Nathaniel Bacon 
and others say, as they came out) and 
only started by way of probation. I 
have not seen so hot a debate vanish so 
strangely, like an ignis fatims. . . . 

March 7th. 

... I suppose you have heard of 
the Address made by 100 officers, to 
his Highness, yesterday se'nnight, that 
his Highness would not hearken to the 
title (king.) because it was not pleasing 
to his army, and was matter of scandal 
to the people of God, of great rejoicing 
to the enemy ; that it was hazardous to 
his own person, and of great danger to 
the three nations ; such an assumption 
making way for Charles Stewart to 
come in again. 

His Highness returned answer pres- 
ently to this effect, — that the first man 
that told him of it, was he, the mouth 



of the officers then present (meaning 
Colonel Mills) ; that, for his part he 
had never been at any cabal about the 
same (hinting by that, the frequent 
cabals that were against Kingship by 
certain officers). He said, the time 
was, when they boggled not at the 
word, (king), for the Listrument by 
which the Government now stands, 
was presented to his Highness with the 
title (king) in it, as some there present 
could witness, pointing at a principal 
officer, then in his eye, and he refused 
to accept of the title. But, how it 
comes to pass that they now startle at 
that title, they best knew. That, for 
his part, he loved the title, a feather in 
a hat [Ludlow: "Cromwell said it 
was but a feather in a man's cap, and 
therefore wondered that men would 
not please the children and permit them 
to enjoy their rattle."] as little as 
they did. That they had made him 
their drudge upon all occasions; to dis- 
solve the Long Parliament, who had 
contracted evil enough by long sitting ; 
to call a Parliament, or Convention of 
their naming, who met ; and what did 
they? fly at liberty and property, inso- 
much as if one man had twelve cows, 
they held another that wanted cows 
ought to take share with his neighbour. 
Who could have said anything was 
their own, if they had gone on? . . . 
It is time to come to a settlement, and 
lay aside arbitrary proceedings, so un- 
acceptable to the nation. And by the 
proceedings of this Parliament, you see 
they stand in need of a check, or bal- 
ancing power (meaning the House of 
Lords, or a House so constituted) for 
the case of James Nayler might happen 
to be your own case. By their judicial 
power they fall upon life and member, 
and doth the Instrument enable me to 
control it? 

These were some of the heads, insisted 
on in his speech, though perhaps not the 



114 



The Protectorate 



same words, yet the full sense ; and the 
officers since that time are quieted, and 
many fallen from the rest. . . . [The 
negotiations on this subject were inter- 
minable. See Carlyle, who devotes half 
a volume to them. — Ed. J 



June 20, 1657. 

. . . Mr. Battipfield., Major- Gen- 
eral Wkalley, and Mr. Vincent moved, 
that the Bill for the Sabbath might be 
read. . . . 

Colonel Holland. We have but too 
many penal laws, and 100 clauses of 
that kind may well be repealed. These 
laws are always turned upon the most 
godly. This is very strict, as to that of 
unnecessary walking, and coming into 
men's houses. The last Bill for the 
Lord's Day, I remember, was passed 
on a Saturday and carried on with great 
zeal. Then I told them they had tied 
men from coming to church by water 
or coach. Next day, I, coming to 
Somerset House to sermon, had my 
boat and waterman laid hold on for the 
penalty. ... 

Lord Chief-Justice Glynn. I move 
against the clause for entering into 
men's houses. It may be a snare to all 
the nation ; and knaves, in the night- 
time, inay enter and rob men's houses 
under this Pretence. When an Act of 
Parliament gives a liberty of entry, then 
a inan may break open doors. 

Mr. Grove. The constable's voice 
is well known, and no man can be 
robbed under that pretence. 

Mr. Godfrey moved a proviso, to 
limit the officers' entry only to taverns, 
inns, etc. . . . 

Air. V'incent and Colonel Chad-voick 
were not satisfied with the proviso. It 
was too short ; for, now a-days, the 
greatest disorders were in private houses, 
by sending thither for drink. . . . 



Sir Christopher Pack. I move that 
cooks' houses be comprehended. . . . 

Lord Whitlock. I am against all 
liberty of this kind, to enter men's 
houses. The law has always been 
tender of men's houses. I would not 
have the people of England enslaved. 

Mr. West. I except against the 
words in the Bill, " idle sitting, openly, 
at gates or doors, or elsewhere;" and 
"walking in church-yards etc." . . . 
Let a man be in what posture he will, 
your penalty finds him. . . . 

Mr. Godfrey. I move to leave out 
the words, " profane and idle sitting;" 
for this joins issue between the officer 
and the party, and puts a plea in the 
party's mouth which is not triable. He 
will say he is talking or meditating 
about good things. . . . 

J/r. Foxvell. I inove to leave out 
the whole clause. . . . 

Mr. Bodurda. . . . Some persons 
have not conveniency to sit at doors ; so 
I would have you add more to it, viz. : 
" leaning or standing at doors." 

Mr. Vincent. Though the law- 
seems a little strict in this clause, yet 
this clause is not to be derided. I can- 
not think such sitting at doors, as is 
usual, can be a sanctification of the 
Lord's day. I would have the question 
divided. First put it upon working, 
and then upon sitting at doors. 

The Master of the Rolls. ... In 
some paits of this city, unless people 
have liberty to sit at doors, you deprive 
them of most of the air they have all 
the week, and destroy their children. 

Lord Chief-Justice. ( ^uatemis 
ipszim.) It is most certain that there is 
no unlawfulness or guilt in single sitting 
at doors. It must be the same as within 
doors. It is but intended for example's 
sake. . . . Youput a negative pregnant 
upon a man, to say that sittiiag at the 
door is more profane than standing; so 



The Protectorate 



115 



there is no such derision in that. It 
may cause discord, and prying amongst 
neighbours, into the actions of one 
another. And this is still left in the 
judgment of constables and heaj:l- 
boroughs, who are generally bad all 
the nation over. . . . 

Colonel Briscoe. . . . Man's law 
must not be too severe, but rational : 
that men may be convinced of the 
reason of it. I would not have laws too 
rigid. 

J/ajor Biirton. You had as good 
leave out the whole Bill as leave out 
this clause. 

GROUP XIV. 

THE RETURN AND CORONATION OF CHARLES II. 



J/r. West. You would not leave 
out the word "elsewhere;" for there 
may be profaneness, by sitting under 
some eminent tree in a village, or an 
arbour, or Gray's-Inn walks. 

The whole clause being put to the 
question, the House was divided. The 
Teas went forth. 

Noes 37. Colonel Briscoe arid Mr. 
Williams, Tellers. 

Teas 35. Mr. Rhodes and Mr. All- 
sopp, Tellers. 

So it passed to leave it out [By a 
majority of 2 !] 



I. Extracts from Evelyn and Pepys. 
Evelyn. 

Oct. 23nd, 165S. 

Saw ye superb funeral] of ye Pro- 
tector. He was carried from Somerset 
House in a velvet bed of state drawn by 
six horses, houss'd with ye same; the 
pall held by his new Lords ; Oliver 
lying in effigie in royal robes, and 
crown' d with a crown, sceptre and 
globe, like a king. The pendants and 
guidons ^vere carried by ye officers 
of the army ; the Imperial banners, 
achievements, etc., by ye heraulds in 
their coates ; a rich caparison' d horse, 
embroidered all over with gold ; a 
knight of honour arm'd cap-a-pie, and 
after all, his guards, souldiers, and in- 
numerable mourners. In this equipage 
they proceeded to Westminster : but it 
was the joyfullest funerall I ever saw, 
for there were none that cried but dogs, 
which the soldiers hooted away with a 
barbarous noise, drinking and taking 
tobacco in the streetes as they went. 

Nov. 7, 1659. 
Was publish'd my bold " Apologie 
for the King" in this time of danger, 
when it was capital to speake or write 



in favour of him. It v\'as tv^ice printed, 
so universaly it took. 

Jan. 1 3th, 1659-60. 

Wrote to Col. Morley againe to de- 
clare for his Majesty. 

Feb. 3rd. 

Kept ye fast. Generall Monk came 
now to London out of Scotland, but 
no man knew what he would do, or 
declare, yet he was met on his way by 
the gentlemen of all the counties which 
he pass'd, with petitions that he would 
recall the old long interrupted Parlia- 
ment, and settle the nation in some 
order, being at this time in most pro- 
digious confusion and under no govern- 
ment, everybody expecting what would 
be next and what he would do. 

Feb. loth. 

NoviT were the gates of the citty 
broken down by General Monk, which 
exceedingly exasperated the citty, the 
souldiers marching up and down as 
triumphing over it, and all the old army 
of the phanatics put out of their posts, 
and sent out of tov^'ne. 

Feb. nth. 

A signal day. Monk, perceiving how 
infamous and wretched a pack of knaves 



ii6 



Charles II. 



would have still usurped the supreame 
power, and having intelligence that they 
intended to take away his commission, 
repenting of what he had don to ye 
citty, and where he and his forces were 
quartered, marches to White-hall, dissi- 
pates that nest of robbers, and convenes 
the old Parliament, the Rump Parlia- 
ment (so call'd as retaining some few 
rotten members of ye other) being dis- 
solved ; and for joy whereoff were many 
thousand of rumps roasted publicly in 
ye streetes at the bon-fires this night, 
with ringing of bells, and universal 
jubilee. This was the first good omen. 

From Feb. 17th to April 5th I was 
detain' d in bed with a kind of double 
tertian. . . . During this sicknesse came 
divers of my relations and friends to 
visite me, and it retarded my going into 
the country longer than I intended ; 
however, I writ and printed a letter, in 
defence of his Majesty, against a wicked 
forg'd paper, pretended to be sent from 
Bruxells to defame his Majesties person 
and vertues, and render him odious, 
now when everybody was in hope and 
expectation of the General and Parlia- 
ment recalling him, and establishing ye 
government on its antient and right 
basis. 

Pepys. 

March 5th, 1660. 

To Westminster by water, only see- 
ing Mr. Pinky at his own house, where 
he showed me how he had always kept 
the lion and unicorn, in the back of his 
chimney, bright, in expectation of the 
king's coming again. At home I found 
Mr. Hunt, who told me how the Par- 
liament had voted that the Covenant be 
printed and hung in churches again. 
Great hopes of the king coming again. 

6th. 
. . . My Lord told me, that there was 
great endeavours to bring in the Pro- 
tector again ; but he told me, too, that 



he did believe it would not last long if 
he were brought in, no, nor the king 
neither (though he seems to think that 
he will come in), unless he carry him- 
self very soberly and well. Everybod}^ 
now drink the king's health without 
any fear, whereas before it was very 
private that a man dare do it. Monk 
this day is feasted at Mercer's 
Hall. . . . 

1 6th. 
To Westminster Hall, where I heard 
how the Parliament had this day dis- 
solved themselves, .and did pass very 
cheerfully through the Hall, and the 
Speaker without his mace. The whole 
Hall was joyful thereat, as well as them- 
selves, and now they begin to talk loud 
of the king. To-night, I am told, that 
yesterday, about five o'clock in the 
afternoon, one came with a ladder to 
the Great Exchange, and wiped with a 
brush the inscription that was on King 
Charles, and that there was a great bon- 
fire made in the Exchange, and people 
called out " God bless King Charles the 
Second!" 

19th. 

All the discourse nowaday is, that the 
king will come again, and for all I see, 
it is the wishes of all ; and all do believe 
that it will be so. 

April nth. 
. . . All the news from London is 
that things go on further towards a 
king. That the Skinner's Company 
the other day at their entertaining Gen- 
eral Monk had took down the Parlia- 
ment arms in their Hall, and set up the 
king's. My Lord and I had a great 
deal of discourse about the several cajD- 
tains of the fleet, and his interest among 
them, and had his mind clear to bring 
in the king. He confessed to me that 
he was not sure of his own captain, to 
be true to him, and that he did not like 
Captain Stokes. 



Charles II. 



117 



22nd. 

Several Londoners, strangers, friends 
of the captain, dined here, who, among 
other things, told us how the king's 
arms are every day set up in houses and 
churches, particularly in Allhallows 
Church in Thames Street, John Simp- 
son's church, which being privately 
done was a great eyesore to his people 
when they came to church and saw it. 
Also they told us for certain that the 
king's statue is making by the Mercer's 
Company (who are bound to do it) to 
set up in the Exchange. 

May I St. 

To-day I hear they were very merry 
at Deale, setting up the king's flags 
upon one of their maypoles, and drink- 
ing his health upon their knees in the 
streets, and firing the guns, which the 
soldiers of the castle threatened, but 
durst not oppose. 

2nd. 
Mr. Dunne from London, with letters 
that tell us the welcome news of the 
Parliament's votes yesterday, which 
will be remembered for the happiest 
May-day that hath been many a year to 
England. The king's letter was read 
in the House, wherein he submits him- 
self and all things to them, as to an Act 
of Oblivion to all, unless they shall 
please to except any, as to the confirm- 
ing of the sales of the king's and 
Church lands, if they see good. The 
House, upon reading the letter, ordered 
£50,000 to be forthwith provided to 
send to his Majesty for his present sup- 
ply ; and a committee chosen to return 
an answer of thanks to his Majesty for 
his gracious letter ; and that the letter 
be kept among the records of the Par- 
liament ; and in all this not so much as 
one No. So that Luke Robinson him- 
self stood up and made a recantation of 
what he had done, and promises to be 
a loyal subject to his prince for the 



time to come. The City of London 
have put out a declaration, wherein 
they do disclaim their owning any other 
government but that of a King, Lords, 
and Commons. Thanks was given by 
the House to Sir John Greenville, one 
of the Bedchamber to the king, who 
brought the letter, and they continued 
bare all the time it was reading. Upon 
notice from the Lords to the Commons, 
of their desire that the Commons would 
join with them in their vote for King, 
Lords, and Commons; the Commons 
did concur, and voted that all books 
whatever that are out against the Gov- 
ernment of King, Lords and Commons 
should be brought into the House and 
burned. Great joy all yesterday at 
London, and at night more bonfii'es 
than ever, and ringing of bells, and 
drinking of the king's health upon their 
knees in the streets, which methinks is 
a little too much. But everybody 
seems to be joyful in the business, in- 
somuch that our sea-commanders now 
begin to say so too, which a week ago 
they would not do. And our seamen, 
as many as had money or credit for 
drink, did do nothing else this evening. 
This day come Mr. North (Sir Dudley 
North's son) on board, to spend a little 
time here, which my Lord was a little 
troubled at, but he seems to be a fine 
gentleman, and at night did play his 
part exceeding well at first sight. 

3rd. 
This morning my Lord showed me 
the King's declaration, and his letter to 
the two generals, to be communicated 
to the fleet. The contents of the letter 
are his offer of grace to all that will 
come in within forty days, only except- 
ing them that the Parliament shall here- 
after except. That the sales of lands 
during these troubles, and all other 
things, shall be left to the Parliament, 
by which he will stand. The letter 



ii8 



Charles II. 



dated at Breda, April 4-14, 1660, in the 
twelfth year of his reign. Upon the 
receipt of it this moiining by an express, 
Mr. Philips, one of the messengers of 
the Council from General Monk, my 
Lord summoned a council of war, and 
in the meantime did dictate to me how 
he would have the vote ordered which 
he would have pass this council. 
Which done, the commanders all came 
on board, and the council sat in the 
coach (the first council of war that had 
been in my time), where I read the 
letter and declaration ; and while they 
were discoursing upon it, I seemed to 
draw up a vote, which being offered, 
they passed. Not one man seemed to 
say no to it, though I am confident 
many in their hearts were against it. 
After this was done, I went up to the 
quarter-deck with my Lord and the 
commanders, and there read both the 
papers and the vote ; which done, and 
demanding their opinion, the seamen 
did all of them cry out, "God bless 
King Charles ! " with the greatest joy 
immaginable. . . . 



Evelyn . 



May 3rd. 



Came the most happy tidings of his 
Majesty's gracious declaration and ap- 
plications to the Parliament, Generall, 
and People, and their dutiful acceptance 
and acknowledgement, after a most 
bloudy and unreasonable rebellion of 
neare 20 j'eares. Praised be forever the 
Lord of Heaven, who onely doeth won- 
drous things, be-cause His mercy endur- 
eth forever. 

I^epys. 

May 3rd. 

My letters at night tell me that the 
House did deliver their letter to Sir 
John Greenville, in answer to the 
King's sending, and that they give him 
£500 for his pains, to buy him a jewel, 
and that besides the £50,000 ordered 



to be borrowed of the City for the pres- 
ent use of the King, the twelve com- 
panies of the City do give every one 
of them to his Majesty as a present, 
£1,000. 

5th. 
. . . This evening come Dr. Clarges 
to Deal, going to the King, where the 
townspeople strewed the streets with 
herbs against his coming, for joy of his 
going. Never was there so general a 
content as there is now. I cannot but 
remember that our parson did, in his 
prayer tonight, pray for the long life 
and happiness of our King and dread 
Sovereign, that may last as long as the 
sun and moon endureth. 

1 6th. 
. . . This afternoon Mr. Edward 
Pickering told me in what a sad, poor 
condition for clothes and money the 
King was, and all his attendants, when 
he came to him first from my Lord, 
their clothes not being worth forty shil- 
lings the best of them. And how over- 
joyed the King was when Sir J. Green- 
ville brought him some money; so 
joyful, that he called the Princess Royal 
and Duke of York to look upon it as it 
lay in the portmanteau before it was 
taken out. . . . 

17th. 
. . . Before dinner Mr. Edw. Pick- 
ering and I,W. Howe, Pim and my boy, 
to Scheveling, where we took coach, 
and so to the Hague, where walking, 
intending to find one that might shew 
us the King incognito, I met with Cap- 
tain Whittington (that had formerly 
brought a letter to my Lord from the 
Mayor of London) , and he did promise 
me to do it, but first we went and 
dined. At dinner in came Dr. Cade, a 
merry mad parson of the King's. And 
they two got the child and me (the 
others not being .able to crowd in) to 
see the King, who kissed the child very 



Charles II. 



119 



affectionateh-. Then we kissed his, and 
the Duke of York's and the Princess 
Royal's hands. The King seems to be 
a very sober man ; and a very splendid 
Court he hath in the number of per- 
sons of quality that are about him ; 
English very rich in habit. From the 
King to the Lord Chancellor, who did 
lie bed-rid of the gout : he spoke very 
merrily to the child and me. After 
that, going to see the Qiieen of Bohemia, 
[the Winter Qvieen] I met Dr. Fuller, 
whom I sent to a tavern with Mr. 
Edw. Pickering, while I and the rest 
went to see the Qiieen, who used us 
very respectfully : her hand we all 
kissed. She seems a very debonaire, 
but a plain lady. . . . 

3 1 St. 

. . . hearing by letters that came 
hither in my absence, that the Parlia- 
ment had ordered all persons to be 
secured, in order to a trial, that did sit 
as judges in the late King's death, and 
all the officers attending the Court. 
Sir John Lenthall moving in the House, 
that all that had borne arms against 
the King should be exempted from par- 
don, he was called to the bar of the 
House, and after a severe reproof he 
was degraded his knighthood. 

33rd. 
In the morning come infinity of peo- 
ple on board from the King to go along 
with him. My Lord, Mr. Crewe, and 
others go on shore to meet the King as 
he comes off from shore, where Sir R. 
Stayner, bringing his Majesty into the 
boat, I hear that his Majesty did with 
a great deal of affection kiss my Lord 
upon his first meeting. The King, 
with the two Dukes and Queen of Bo- 
hemia, Princess Royal, and Prince of 
Orange, come on board, where I in 
their coming in kissed the King's, 
Qiieen' s, and Princess's hands, having 
done the other before. Infinite shoot- 



ing off of the guns, and that in a dis- 
order on purpose, which was better 
than if it had been otherwise. All day 
nothing but Lords and persons of 
honour on board, that we were exceed- 
ing full. Dined in a great deal of state, 
the Royal company by themselves in 
the coach, which was a blessed sight 
to see. After dinner the King and 
Duke altered the name of some of the 
ships, viz., the Nazeby, into Charles; 
the Richard, James; the Speaker, 
Mary. . . . We weighed anchor, and 
with a fresh gale and most happy 
weather we set sail for England. All 
the afternoon the King walked here and 
there, up and down (quite contrary to 
what I thought him to have been) very 
active and stirring. Upon the quarter- 
deck he fell into discourse of his escape 
from Worcester, where it made me 
ready to weep to hear the stories that 
he told of his difficulties that he had 
passed through, as his travelling four 
days and three nights on foot, every 
step up to his knees in dirt, with nothing 
but a green coat and a pair of country 
breeches on, and a pair of country shoes 
that made him so sore all over his feet 
that he could scarce stir. Yet he was 
forced to run away from a miller and 
other company, that took them for 
rogues. His sitting at table at one 
place, where the master of the house 
that had not seen him in eight years, 
did know him, but kept it private; 
when at the same table there was one 
that had been of his own regiment at 
Worcester, could not know him, but 
made him drink the King's health, and 
said that the King was at least four 
fingers higher than he. At another 
place he was by some servants of the 
house made to drink, that they might 
know that he was not a Roundhead, 
which they swore he was. In another 
place at his inn, the master of the house, 
as the King was standing with his hands 



I20 



Charles II. 



upon the back of a chair by the fireside, 
kneeled down and Ivissed liis liand, pri- 
vately, saying, that he would not ask 
him who he was, but bid God bless him 
whither he was going. Then the diffi- 
culties in getting a boat to get into 
France, where he was fain to plot with 
the master thereof to keep his design 
from the foreman and a boy (which 
was all the ship's company), and so 
get to Fecamp in France. At Rouen 
he loqked so poorly, that the people 
went into the rooms before he went 
away to see whether he had not stole 
something or other. 

25th. 
By the morning we were come close 
to the land, and everybody made ready 
to get on shore. The King and the 
two Dukes did eat their breakfast before 
they went, and there being set some 
ship's diet, they ate of nothing else but 
pease and pork, and boiled beef . . . 
and so got on shore when the King did, 
who was received by General Monk 
with all imaginable love and respect at 
his entrance upon the land of Dover. 
Infinite the crowd of people and the 
horsemen, &itizens, and noblemen of 
all sorts. The Mayor of the town 
came and gave him his white staff, the 
badge of his place, which the King did 
give him again. The Mayor also pre- 
sented him from the town a very rich 
Bible, which he took, and said it was 
the thing that he loved above all things 
in the world. A canopy was provided 
for him to stand under, which he did, 
and talked awhile with General Monk 
and others, and so into a stately coach 
there set for him, and so away through 
the town towards Canterbury, without 
making any state at Dover. The shout- 
ing and joy expressed by all is past 
imagination. Seeing that my Lord did 
not stir out of his barge, I got into a 
boat and so into his barge. My Lord 
almost transported with joy that he had 



done all this without any the least blur 
or obstruction in the world. . . . 
Evelyn. 

May 29th. 

This day his Majestie Charles the 
Second came to London after a sad and 
long exile and calamitous suffering both 
of the king and church, being 17 yeares. 
This was also his birth-day, and with 
a triumph of above 30,000 horse and 
foote, brandishing their swords and 
shouting with inexpressible joy ; the 
wayes strewed with flowers, the bells 
ringing, the streetes hung with tapissry, 
fountaines running with wine ; the 
Maior, Aldermen, and all the Compa- 
nies in their liveries, chaines of gold and 
banners ; Lords and Nobles clad in 
cloth of silver, gold, and velvet ; the 
windowes and balconies all set with 
ladies; trumpets, inusic, and myriads 
of people flocking, even so far as from 
Rochester, so as they were seven houres 
in passing the citty, even from 2 in ye 
afternoone till 9 at night. 

I stood in the Strand and beheld it, 
and bless' d God. And all this was don 
without one drop of bloud shed, and by 
that very army which rebell'd against 
him; but it was ye Lord's doing, for 
such a restauration was never mention' d 
in any history antient or modern, since 
the returne of the Jews from the Baby- 
lonish captivity ; nor so joyf ull a day 
and so bright ever scene in this nation, 
this hapning when to expect or effect 
it was past all human policy. 

June 4th. 

I was carried to his Majestie when 
very few noblemen were with him, and 
kiss'd his hands, being very graciously 
receiv'd. . . . 

June iSth. 

Goods that had been pillag'd frome 
White-hall during ye rebellion v.'ere 
now daily brought in and restor'd upon 
proclamation ; as plate, hangings, pic- 
tures, etc. 







CHARLES II. 



i{><,.mw.«m: 







Charles II. 



121 



July 5th. 
I saw his Majestic go with as much 
jDompe and splendour as anj' earthly 
prince could do to the greate citty 
feast. . . . 

Pepys. 

July 5th. 
This morning my brother Tom 
brought me my jackanapes coat with 
silver buttons. It rained this morning, 
which makes us fear that the glory of 
this day will be lost; the King and 
Parliament being to be entertained by 
the City to-day with great pomp. Mr. 
Hater was with me to-day, and I 
agreed with him to be my clerk. 
Being at Whitehall I saw, the King, 
the Dukes, and all their attendants go 
forth in the rain to the City, and it 
spoiled many a fine suit of clothes. . . . 

October 13th. 

I went out to Charing Cross, to see 
Major-General Harrison hanged, drawn 
and quartered ; which was done there, 
he looking as cheerful as any man could 
do in that condition. He was pres- 
ently cut down, and his head and heart 
shown to the people, at which there 
was great shouts of joy. It is said that 
he said that he was sure to come shortly 
at the right hand of Christ to judge them 
that now had judged him ; and that his 
wife do expect his coming again. 
Thus it was my chance to see the King 
beheaded at Whitehall, and to see the 
first blood shed in revenge for the King 
at Charing Cross. 

15th. 

This morning Mr. Carew was hanged 
and quartered at Charing Cross; but 
his quarters, by a great favour, are not 
to be hanged up. 

Evelyn. 

Oct. 17th. 
Scot, Scroope, Cook and Jones, suf- 
fered for the reward of their iniquities 



at Charing Crosse, in sight of the place 
where they put to death their natural 
Prince, and in the presence of the 
King his sonn, whom they also sought 
to kill. I saw not their execution, but 
met their quarters mangled and cutt 
and reeking as they were brought from 
the gallows in baskets on the hurdle. 

the miraculous providence of God ! 

Pepys. 

Oct. iSth. 
This morning, it being expected that 
Colonel Hacker and Axtel should die, 

1 went to Newgate, but found they 
v^'ere reprieved till to-morrow. 

19th. 
This morning my dining-room was 
finished with green serge hanging and 
gilt leather, which is very handsome. 
This morning Hacker and Axtel were 
hanged and quartered, as the rest 
are. . . . 

20th. 
. . . This afternoon, going through 
London, and calling at Crowe's the 
upholsterer's in Saint Bartholomew's, 
I saw limbs of some of our new traitors 
set upon Aldersgate, which was a sad 
sight to see ; and a bloody week this 
and the last have been, there being ten 
hanged, drawn, and quartered. 

Evelyn. 

Jan. 30th, 1 660- 1. 
. . . This day (O the stupendous and 
inscrutable judgments of God!) were 
the carcasses of those arch rebells 
Cromwell, Bradshaw the Judge who 
condemn' d his Majestie, and Ireton 
sonn-in-law to ye Usurper, dragg'd out 
of their superb tombs in Westminster 
among the Kings, to Tyburne, and 
hanged on the gallows there from 9 in 
ye morning till 6 at night, and then 
buried under that fatal and ignominious 
monument in a deepe pitt ; thousands 
of people who had seene them in all 



122 



Charles II. 



their pride being spectators. Looke 
back at Nov. 23nd, 1658,* and be 
astonish'd! and feare God and honor 
ye King ; but meddle not witli them 
who are given to cliange ! . . . 

May 32nd, 1 66 1. 
The Scotcli Covenant was burnt by 
the common hangman in divers places 
in London. Oh prodigious change ! 

Pefys. 

April 33nd, 1661. 
The King's going from the Tower 
to Whitehall. Up early and made 
myself as fine as I could, and put on 
my velvet coat, the first day that I put 
it on, though made half a year ago. 
And being ready. Sir W. Batten, my 
Lady, and his two daughters and his 
son and wife, and Sir W. Pen and his 
son and I, went to Mr. Young's the 
flag-maker, in Cornhill ; and there we 
had a good room to ourselves, with 
wine and good cake, and saw the show 
very well. In which it is impossible to 
relate the glory of this day, expressed 
in the clothes of them that rid, and 
their horses and their horse's clothes. 
Among others, my Lord Sandwich's 
embroidery and diamonds where not 
ordinary among them. The Knights 
of the Bath was a brave sight of itself ; 
and their Esquires, among which Mr. 
Armiger was an Esquire of one of the 
Knights. Remarkable were the two' 
men that represented the two Dukes of 
Normandy and Aquitaine. The 
Bishops come next after Barons, which 
is the higher place ; which makes me 
think tliat the next Parliament they 
will be called to the House of Lords. 
My Lord Monk rode bare after the 
King, and led in his hand a spare horse, 
as being Master of the Horse. The 
King, in a most rich embroidered suit 
and cloak, looked most noble. Wad- 
low, the vintner, at the Devil, in Fleet 

*See page 115. 



Street, did lead a fine company of sol- 
diers, all young comely men, in white 
doublets. There followed the Vice- 
Chamberlain, Sir G. Carteret, a com- 
pany of men all like Turks ; but I 
know not yet, what they are for. The 
streets all gravelled, and the houses 
hung with carpets before them, made 
brave show, and the ladies out of the 
windows. So glorious was the show 
with gold and silver, that we are not 
able to look at it, our eyes at last being 
so much overcome. Both the King 
and the Duke of York took notice of 
us, as they saw us at the window. 
In the evening, by water to Whitehall 
to my Lord's, and there I spoke with, 
my Lord. He talked with me about 
my suit, which was made in France, 
and cost him £300, and very rich it is 
with embroiderjr. 



Coroftation Day. 



33rd. 



About four I rose and got to the 
Abbey, where I followed Sir J. Den- 
hain, the surveyor, with some company 
that he was leading in. And with 
much ado, by the favor of Mr. Cooper, 
his man, did get up into a great scaffold 
across the north end of the Abbe}', 
where with a great deal of patience 
I sat from past four till eleven before 
the King came in. And a great pleas- 
ure it was to see the Abbey raised in 
the middle, all covered with red, and a 
throne (that is a chair) and a foot-stool 
on the top of it ; and all the officers of 
all kinds, so much as the very fiddlers, 
in red vests. At last comes in the Dean 
and the Prebends of Westminster, with 
the Bishops (many of them in cloth-of- 
gold capes), and after them the nobility, 
all in their Parliament robes, which was 
a most magnificent sight. Then the 
Duke and the King with sceptre (carried 
by my Lord Sandwich) and sword and 
wand before him, and the crown too. 



Charles II. 



123 



The King in his robes, bareheaded, 
which was very fine. And after all had 
placed themselves, there was a sermon 
and a seixice ; and then in the Choir at 
the high altar, the King passed through 
all the ceremonies of the coronation, 
which to ni}' great grief I and most in 
the Abbey could not see. The crown 
being put upon his head, a great shout 
begun, and he came forth to the throne, 
and there passed through more cere- 
emonies : as taking the oaths, and hav- 
ing things read to him by the Bishop ; 
and his lords (who put on their caps 
as soon as the king put on his crown) 
and bishops come and kneeled before 
him. And three times the king at arms 
went to the three open places on the 
scaffold, and proclaimed, that if any 
one could show any reason why Charles 
Stewart should not be King of England, 
that now he should come and speak. 
And a General Pardon also was read 
by the Lord Chancellor, and medals 
flung up and down by my Lord Corn- 
wallis, of silver, but I could not come by 
any. But so great was the noise that I 
could make but little of the music ; and 
indeed it was lost to every body. I went 
out a little .while before the king had 
done all the ceremonies, and went round 
the Abbey to Westminster Hall all the 
way within rails, and 10,000 people 
with the ground covered with blue 
cloth ; and scaffolds all the way. Into 
the Hall I got, where it was very fine 
with hangings and scaffolds one upon 
another full of brave ladies ; and my 
wife in one little one, on the right hand. 
Here I stayed walking up and down, 
and at last upon one of the side stalls I 
stood and saw the King come in with all 
the pei'sons (but the soldiers) that were 
yesterday in the cavalcade ; and a most 
pleasant sight it was to see them in their 
several robes. And the King come in 
with the crown on, and his scepter in 
his hand, and a canopy borne up by 



six silver staves, carried by Barons of 
the Cinque Ports, and little bells at 
every end. And after a long time, he 
got up to the farther end, and all set 
themselves down at their several tables ; 
and that was also a brave sight : and 
the King's first course carried up by the 
Knights of the Bath. And many fine 
ceremonies there was of the herald's 
leading up people before him, and bow- 
ing ; and my Lord of Albemarle' s going 
to the kitchen and eating a bit of the 
first dish that was to go to the King's 
table. But, above all, was there three 
Lord's, Northumberland, and Suffolk, 
and the Duke of Ormond, coming 
before the courses on horseback, stay- 
ing so all dinner-time, and at last bring- 
ing up (Dymock) the King's champion, 
all in armour on horseback, with the 
spear and target carried before him. 
And a herald proclaims, that if any 
dare deny Charles Stewart to be lawful 
" King of England, here was a cham- 
pion that would fight for him;" and 
with these words, the champion flings 
down his gauntlet, and all this he do 
three times in his going up towards the 
King's table. To which when he is 
come, the King drinks to him, and then 
sends him the cup, which is of gold, 
and he drinks it off, and then rides back 
again with the cup in his hand. I went 
from table to table to see the bishops 
and all others at their dinner, and was 
infinitely pleased with it. And at the 
Lords table I met with William Howe, 
and he spoke to my Lord for me, and 
he did give him four rabbits and a pullet, 
and so Mr. Creed and I got Mr. Min- 
shell to give us some bread, and so we 
at a stall eat it, as everybody else did 
what they could get. I took a great 
deal of pleasure to go up and down, 
and look upon the ladies, and to hear 
the music of all sorts, but above all the 
twenty-four violins. About six at night 
they had dined, and I went up to my 



124 



Charles II. 



■wife. And strange it is to think that 
these two days have held up fair till 
now that all is done, and the King gone 
out of the Hall ; and then it fell a-rain- 
ing and thundering and lightning as I 
have not seen it do for some years ; 
which people did take great notice of. 
God's blessing of the work of these two 
days, which is a foolery to take too 
much notice of such things. I observed 
little disorder of all this, only the King's 
footmen had got hold of the canopy, 
and would keep it from the Barons of 
the Cinque Ports, which they endeav- 



oured to force from them again, but 
could not do it till my Lord the Duke 
of Albemarle caused it to be put in Sir 
R. Pye's hand till to-morrow to be 
decided. . . . 

34th. 
At night, set myself to write down 
these three days diary, and while I am 
about it, I hear the noise of the cham- 
bers, and other things of the fireworks, 
which are now playing upon the 
Thames before the King ; and I wish 
myself with them, being sorry not to 
see them. 



GROUP XV. 

THE PLAGUE OF LONDON, 1 665 A. D. 



I. Extracts from Pepys's Diary. 

June 7th, 1665. 
The hottest day that ever I felt in my 
life. This day, much against my will, 
I did in Drury Lane see two or three 
houses mai-ked with a red cross upon 
the doors, and " Lord have mercy upon 
us!" written there; which was a sad 
sight to me, being the first of the kind 
that, to my remembrance, I ever saw. 

June loth. 
In the evening home to supper ; and 
there, to my great trouble, hear that the 
plague is come into the Cit)', though it 
hath, these three or four weeks since 
its beginning, been wholly out of the 
City ; but where should it begin but in 
my good friend and neighbour's. Dr. 
Burnett, in Fenchurch Street ; which, 
in both points, troubles me mightily. 

June I ith. 
I saw poor Dr. Burnett's door shut; 
but he hath, I hear, gained great good- 
will among his neighbours : for he 
discovered it himself first, and caused 
himself to be shut up of his own ac- 
cord ; which was very handsome. 



June 15th. 
Up, and put on my new stuff suit 
with close knees, which becomes me 
most noblv, as my wife says. . . . The 
town grows very sickly, and jjeople to 
be afraid of it ; there dying this last 
week of the plague ii3, from 43 the 
week before ; whereof but one in Fen- 
church Street, and one in Broad Street, 
by the Treasurer's oflnce. 

June 17th. 
It struck me very deep this afternoon 
going with a hackney coach from Lord 
Treasurer's down Holborn, the coach- 
man I found to drive easily and easily, 
at last stood still, and came down hardly 
able to stand, and told me that he was 
suddenly struck very sick, and almost 
blind — he could not see ; so I alight, 
and went into another coach, with a 
sad heart for the poor man and for iny- 
self also lest he should have been struck 
with the plague. 

June 33rd. 
Home by hackney-coach, which is 
become a very dangerous passage now- 
a-days, the sickness increasing mightily. 



The Plague of London 



125 



June 27th. 
The plague increases mightily, I this 
da}' seeing a house, at a bit- maker's, 
over against St. Clement's Church, in 
the open street, shut up, which is a sad 
sight. 

June 2Sth. 
In my way to Westminster Hall, I ob- 
served several plague-houses in King's 
Street and near the Palace. 

June 39th. 
By water to Whitehall, where the 
Court full of waggons and people ready 
to go out of town. This end of the 
town every day grows veiy bad of the 
plague. The Mortality Bill is come to 
267, which is about ninety more than 
the last ; and of these but four in the 
City, which is a great blessing to us. 

July I St. 
To Westminster, where I hear the 
sickness increases greatly. Sad at the 
news, that seven or eight houses in 
Buryinghall Street are shut up of the 
plague. 

July 3rd. 
The season growing so sickly, that it 
is much to be feared how a man can 
escape having a share with others in it, 
for which the good Lord God bless me ! 
or make me fitted to receive it. 

July 6th. 
I could not see Lord Brouncker, nor 
had much mind, one of the two great 
houses within two doors of him being 
shut up : and, Lord ! the number of 
houses visited, which this day I observed 
through the town, quite round in my 
way, by Long Lane and London Wall. 

July 13th. 
By water at night late to Sir G. Car- 
teret's, but there being no oars to carry 
me, I was fain to call a sculler that had 
a gentleman already in it, and he 
proved a man of love to music, and he 
and I sung together the way down with 
great pleasure. Above 700 died of the 
plague this week. 



July iSth. 
I was much troubled this day to hear 
at Westminster how the officers do 
bury the dead in the open Tuttle fields, 
pretending want of room elsewhere ; 
whereas the New Chapel church-yard 
was walled in at the public charge in 
the last plague time, merely for want 
of room ; and now none, but such as 
are able to pay dear for it can be buried 
there. 

July 29th. 
Up betimes, and, after viewing some 
of my wife's pictures, which now she 
is come to do very finely, to the office. 
At noon to dinner, where I hear that 
my Will is come in thither, and laid 
down upon my bed, ill of the head- 
ache, which put me into extraordinary 
fear ; and I studied all I could to get 
him out of the house, and set my peo- 
ple to work to do it without discour- 
aging him, and myself went forth to 
the Old Exchange to pay my fair Bate- 
lier for some linen, and took leave of 
her, they breaking up shop. 

July 30th. 
(Lord's day.) Up, and in iny night- 
gown, cap, and neck-cloth, undressed 
all day long — lost not a minute, but in 
my chamber, setting my Tangier ac- 
counts to rights. Will is very well 
again. It was a sad noise to hear our 
bell to toll and ring so often to-day, 
either for deaths or burials, I think, 
five or six times. 

Aug. 3rd. 
. . . By-and-by met my Lord Crewe 
returning ; Mr. Marr telling me by the 
way how a maid-servant of Mr. John 
Wright's, who lives thereabouts, falling 
sick of the plague, she was removed to 
an out-house, and a nurse appointed to 
look to her ; who being once absent the 
maid got out of the house at the win- 
dow and ran away. The nurse coming 
and knocking, and having no answer, 
believed she was dead, and went and 



126 



The Plague of London 



told Mr. Wright so, who and his lady 
were in a great strait what to do to get 
her buried. At last resolved to go to 
Brentwood, hard by, being in the par- 
ish, and there get people to do it. But 
they would not ; so he went home full 
of trouble, and in the way met the 
wench walking over the common, 
which frightened him worse than 
before, and was forced to send people 
to take her, which he did, and they got 
one of the pest-coaches, and put her 
into it to carry her to a pest-house. 
And passing in a narrow lane. Sir 
Anthony Browne, with his brother and 
some friends in the coach, met this 
coach with the curtains drawn close. 
The brother being a young man, and 
believing there might be some lady in 
it that would not be seen, and the way 
being narrow, he thrust his head out of 
his own into her coach and to look, 
and there saw somebody looking very 
ill, and in a silk dress, and stunk 
mightily, which the coachman also 
cried out upon. And presently they 
came up to some people that stood 
looking after it, and told our gallants 
that it was a maid of Mr. Wright's 
carried away sick of the plague ; which 
put the young gentleman into a fright 
had almost cost him his life, but is now 
well again. 

August loth. 
The people die so that now it seems 
they are fain to carry the dead to be 
buried by daylight, the nights not suffic- 
ing to do it in. And my Lord Mayor 
commands people to be within at 
nine at night all, as they say, that the 
sick may have liberty to go abroad for 
air. There is also one dead out of 
one of our ships at Deptford, which 
troubles us mightily — the Providence, 
fire-ship, which was just fitted to go to 
sea; but they tell me to-day no inore 
sick on board. And this day, W. Bod- 
ham tells me that one is dead at Wool- 



wich, not far from the rope-yard. I 
am told, too, that a wife of one of the 
grooms at Court is dead at Salisbury. 

August 15. 
It was dark before I could get home, 
and so land at Chui'ch-yard stairs, 
where, to my great trouble, I met a 
dead corpse of the plague, in the nar- 
row alley, just bringing down a little 
pair of stairs. But I thank God I was 
not much disturbed at it. However, I 
shall beware of being late abroad 
aafain. 



3. Letter of John Sturgeon to Sir 
Robert Harley. (In 14th report of 
Ms. Commission. Appendix. Lond. 
1894.) 

August 19, 1665. 
(I and all my children are in good 
health notwithstanding that the plague 
is round about us.) Six deying the 
very nex wale to us. Heare are the 
frequent alarums of death. Heare is 
nothing but groaning and crying and 
dying. Carts are the beeres, wide pits 
are the graves. The carkasses of the 
dead may say with the sons of the 
prophets ' Behould the plase where we 
lye is to strait for us,' for they are not 
allowed to lye single in thare earthen 
beds but are pyled up like fagots in a 
stack for the society of thare future 
resurrection. Heare you may mett on 
pale ghost muffled up under the throat, 
another dragging his legs after him by 
reason of the tumor of his groyne, an- 
other bespotted with the tokens of in- 
stant death, and yel: the greatest plage 
of all is few consider the reason why 
we are plaged. 



3. Extracts from Pepys's Diary. 

Aug. 20th. 

After church, to my inn, and ate and 
drank, and so about seven o'clock by 
water, and got, between nine and ten, 



The 



Plague 



of London 



127 



to Qiieenhithe, very dark ; and I could 
not get my waterman to go elsewhere 
for fear of the plague. Thence with a 
lantern, in great fear of meeting of 
dead corpses carrying to be buried ; 
but, blessed be God ! met none. 

Aug. 32nd. 
Up, and being importuned by my 
wife and her two maids, which are 
both good wenches, for me to buy a 
necklace of pearl for her, and I prom- 
ising to give her one of £60 in two 
years at furthest, and less if she pleases 
me in her painting. I went away and 
w^alked to Greenwich, in my way see- 
ing a coffin with a dead body therein, 
dead of the plague, lying in an open 
close belonging to Coome farm, which 
was carried out last night, and the 
parish have not appointed anybody to 
bury it ; but only set a watch there all 
day and night, that nobody should go 
thither or come thence : this disease 
making us more cruel to one another 
than we are to dogs. Walked to Red- 
riffe, troubled to go through the little 
lane, where the plague is, but did, and 
took water and home, where all well. 



Auc 



25th. 



This day I am told that Dr. Burnett, 
my physician, is this morning dead of 
the plague, which is strange, his man 
dj'ing so long ago, and his house this 
month open again. No'w himself dead. 
Poor, unfortunate man ! 

Aug. 30th. 
I went forth and walked towards 
Moorfields to see, God forgive my pre- 
sumption ! whether I could see any dead 
corpse going to the grave ; but, as God 
would have it, did not. But Lord ! 
how everybody's looks and discourse 
in the street is of death, and nothing 
else ; and iew people going up and 
down, that the town is like a place dis- 
tressed and forsaken. 



Sept. 3rd. 
(Lord's day.) Up, and put on my 
coloured silk suit, very fine, and my 
new periwig, bought a good while since, 
but durst not v^^ear, because the plague 
was in Westminster when I bought it ; 
and it is a wonder what will be the 
fashion after the plague is done as to 
periwigs, for nobody will dare to buy 
any hair for fear of the infection, that 
it had been cut off the heads of peo 
pie dead of the plague. My Lord 
Brouncker, Sir J. Minnes, and I, up 
to the Vestry at the desire of the Jus- 
tices of the Peace, in order to the doing 
something for the keeping of the plague 
from growing ; but. Lord ! to consider 
the madness of people of the town, 
who will, because they are forbid, come 
in crowds along with the dead corpses 
to see them buried ; but we agreed on 
some orders for the prevention thereof. 

Sept. 6th. 
To London to pack up more things ; 
and there I saw fires burning in the 
street, as it is through the whole City, 
by the Lord Mayor's order. Thence 
by water to the Duke of Albemarle's: 
all the way fires on each side of the 
Thames, and strange to see in broad 
daylight two or three burials upon the 
bankside, one at the very heels of an- 
other : doubtless, all of the plague ; 
and yet at least forty or fifty people 
going along with every one of them. 

Sept. 7th. 
To the Tower, and there sent for the 
weekly bill, and find 8,352 dead in all, 
and of them 6,978 of the plague ; which 
is a most dreadful number, and shows 
reasons to fear that the plague hath got 
that hold that it will yet continue 
among us. 

Sept. 15th. 
With Captain Cocke, and there drank 
a cup of good drink, which I am fain 
to allow myself during this plague 



128 



The Plague of London 



time, by advice of all, and not con- 
trary to my oath, my physician being 
dead, and chiriirgeon out of the way, 
whose advice I am obliged to take. In 
much pain to think what I shall do this 
winter time ; for going every day to 
Woolwich I cannot, without endan- 
gering my life ; and staying from my 
wife at Greenwich is not handsome. 



4. Letter of J. Tillison to Dr. San- 
croft. (In Ellis, Original Letters. Sec- 
ond Series, Vol. IV. London, 1839.) 

September 14, 1661^. 

Reverend Sir : ... We are in good 
hopes that God in his mercy will put 
a stop to this sad calamity of sickness ; 
but the desolation of the city is very 
great. That heart is either steel or 
stone that will not lament this sad visi- 
tation, and will not bleed for those un- 
utterable sorrows. 

It is time, God knows, that one woe 
courts another j those that are sick are 
in extreme sorrow ; the poor are in 
need ; those that are in health are in 
fear of infection on the one side, and 
the wicked inventions of hellish rebel- 
lious spirits do put us in an uproar on 
the other side. 

What eye would not weep to see so 
many habitations uninhabited ; the poor 
sick not visited ; the hungry not fed ; 
the grave not satisfied ! Death stares 
us continually in the face in every in- 
fected person that passeth by us ; in 
every coffin which is daily and hourly 
carried along the streets. The bells 
never cease to put us in mind of our 
mortality. 

The custom was, in the beginning, 
to bury the dead in the night only ; 
now, both night and day will hardly be 
time enough to do it. 

For the last week, mortality did 
too apparently evidence that, that the 
dead was piled in heaps above ground 



for some hours together, before either 
time could be gained or place to bury 
them in. 

The Quakers (as we are informed) 
have buried in their piece of ground a 
thousand for some weeks together last 
past. 

Many are dead in Ludgate, Newgate 
and Christ Church Hospital, and many 
other places about the town which are 
not included in the bill of mortality. 

The disease itself (as is acknowledged 
by our practitioners in physic) was 
more favorable in the beginning of the 
contagion ; now more fierce and violent ; 
and they themselves do likewise confess 
to stand amazed to meet with so many 
various symptons which they find 
amongst their patients. One week the 
general distempersare botches and boils ; 
the next week as clear-skinned as may 
be ; but death spares neither. One 
week, full of spots and tokens ; and 
perhaps the succeeding, none at all. 
Now taken with vomiting and loose- 
ness, and within two or three days al- 
most a general raging madness. One 
while patients use to linger four or five 
days, at other times not forty eight 
hours ; and at this very time we find it 
more quick than ever it was. Where 
it has had its fling, there it decreases ; 
It reigned inost heretofore in alleys, 
etc. now it domineers in the open 
streets. The poorer sort was inost af- 
flicted ; now the richer bear a share. 

Captain Colchester is dead. Fleet- 
ham and all his family are clearly swept 
away, except one maid. Dr. Burnett, 
Dr. Glover, and one or two more of 
the College of Physicians, with Dr. 
O'Dowd, which was licensed by my 
Lord's Grace of Canterbur)-, some sui"- 
geons, apothecaries, and Johnson the 
chemist, died all very suddenly. Some 
say (but God forbid that I should re- 
port it for the truth) that these in a 
consultation together, if not all, yet 



The Plague of London 



129 



the greatest part of tliein, attempted to 
open a dead corpse which was full of 
the tokens ; and being in hand with the 
dissected body, some fell down dead 
immediately, and others did not outlive 
the next day at noon. 

All is well and in safety at your 
house, God be thanked. Upon Tues- 
day last I made it my day's work to 
kindle fires in every room of the house 
where I could do it, and aired all the bed 
clothes and bedding at the fires, and so 
let them all lie abroad until this morn- 
ing ; the feather bed in the back cham- 
ber was almost spoiled with the heavy 
weight of carpets and other things 
upon it. I am afraid I have been too 
tedious, and therefore beg your pardon 
and take my leave, who am, 

Reverend Sir, 
your most faithful humble servant, 

Jo. TiLLISON. 

Brimstone, hops, pepper, and frank- 
incense, etc., I use to fume the rooms 
with . 

For yourself. 



5. Extracts from Pepys's Diary. 

Sept. 30th. 
Up, and after being trimmed, the 
first time I have been touched by a 
barber these twelve months, I think, 
and more, by-and-by Sir J. Minnes and 
Sir W. Batten met, to go into my Lord 
Brouncker's coach, and so we four to 
Lambeth, and thence to the Duke of 
Albemarle, to inform him what we 
have done as to the fleet, which is very 
little, and to receive his direction. But, 
Lord ! what a sad time it is to see no 
boats upon the river ; and grass grows 
all up and down Whitehall court, and 
nobody but poor wretches in the streets ! 
And which is worst of all, the Duke 
showed us the number of the plague 
this week, brought in the last night 



from the Lord Mayor; that it is in- 
creased about 600 more than the last, 
which is quite contrary to our hopes 
and expectations, from the coldness of 
the late season. For the whole general 
number is 8,297, ^"*^^ °^ them the 
plague 7,165; which is more, in the 
whole, by above 50, than the biggest 
bill yet : which is very grievous to us 
all. I find Sir W. Batten and his lady 
gone home to Walthamstow, with some 
necessity, hearing that a maid-servant 
of theirs is taken ill. 

Sept. 27th. 
Up and saw and admired my wife's 
picture of Our Saviour, now finished, 
which is very pretty. By water to 
Greenwich, where to the "King's 
Head," the great music-house, the first 
time I was ever there. Much troubled 
to hear from Creed, that he was told at 
Salisbury that I am come to be a great 
swearer and drunkard ; but Lord ! to 
see how my late little drinking of wine 
is taken notice of by envious men, to 
my disadvantage. To Captain Cocke's 
and he not yet come from town, to Mr. 
Evelyn, where much company ; and 
thence in his coach with him to the 
Duke of Albemarle, by Lambeth, who 
was in a mighty pleasant humour ; and 
tells us that the Dutch do stay abroad, 
and our fleet must go out again, or be 
ready to do so. Here we got several 
things ordered, as we desired, for the 
relief of the prisoners, and sick and 
wounded men. Here I saw this week s 
bill of mortality, wherein, blessed be 
God! there is above i,Soo decrease, 
being the first considerable decrease we 
have had. Most excellent discourse 
with Mr. Evelyn touching all manner 
of learning, wherein I find him a very 
fine gentleman, and particularly of 
painting, in which he tells me the beau- 
tiful Mrs. Middleton is rare, and his 
own wife does brave things. 



I30 



The Plague of London 



Oct. 7th. 
. . . Talking with him [a constable] 
in the highway, come close by the 
bearers with a dead corpse of the 
plague ; but Lord ! to see what custom 
is I am almost come to think nothing 
of it. 

Oct. 1 6th. 
I walked to the Tower ; but, Lord ! 
how empty the streets are, and melan- 
choly, so many poor sick people in the 
streets full of sores ; and so many sad 
stories overheard as I walk, everybody 
talking of this dead, and that man sick, 
and so many in this place, and so many 
in that. And they tell me that in 
Westminster there is never a physician 
and but one apothecary left, all being 
dead ; but that there are great hopes of 
a great decrease this week : Gcd send it ! 

Nov. 15th. 
The plague, blessed be God, is de- 
creased 400, making the whole this 
week but 1,300 and odd, for which the 
Lord be praised ! 

Nov. 24th. 
To London, and there in my way at 
my old oyster shop in Gracious Street, 
bought two barrels of my fine woman 
of the shop, who is alive after all the 
plague, which now is the first observa- 
tion or inquiry we make at London 
concerning everybody we know. To 
the 'Change, where very busy with 
several people, and mightily glad to 
see the 'Change so full, and hopes of 
another abatement still the next week. 
I went home with Sir G. Smith to 
dinner, sending for one of my barrels 
of oysters, which were good, though 
come from Colchester, where the plague 
hath been so much. Lord ! to see how 
I am treated, that come from so mean 
a beginning, is matter of wonder to 
me. But it is God's mercy to me, and 
his blessing upon my taking pains, and 



being punctual in my dealings. Visited 
Mr. Evelyn, where most excellent dis- 
course with him. 

Nov. 30th. 
Great joy we have this week in the 
weekly bill, it being come to 544 in all, 
and but 333 of the plague ; so that we 
are encouraged to get to London soon 
as we can. And my father writes as 
great news of joy to them, that he saw 
York's waggon go again this week to 
London, and full of passengers : and 
tells me that my aunt Bell hath been 
dead of the plague these seven weeks. 

Dec. 35th (Christmas day). 
To church in the morning, and there 
saw a wedding in the church, which I 
have not seen many a day ; and the 
young people so merry one with 
another ! and strange to see what de- 
light we married people have to see 
these poor fools decoyed into our con- 
dition, every man and woman gazing 
and smiling at them. Here I saw again 
my beauty Lethulier. 

Dec. 31st. 
Now the plague is abated almost to 
nothing, and I intending to get to Lon- 
don as fast as I can. 

Jan. 5, 1665-6. 
I with my Lord Brouncker and Mrs. 
Williams by coach with four horses to 
London, to my Lord's house in Covent 
Garden. But, Lord ! what staring to 
see a nobleman's coach come to town ! 
And porters everywhere bow to us ; 
and such begging of beggars ! And 
delightful it is to see the town full of 
people again ; and shops begin to open, 
though in many places seven or eight 
together, and more, all shut ; but yet 
the town is full, compared to what it 
used to be. I mean the City end : for 
Covent Garden and Westminster are 
yet very empty of people, no court nor 
gentry being there. Home, thinking to 
get Mrs. Knipp, but could not. 



The Fire of London 



31 



Jan. 30th. 
Home, finding the town keeping the 
day solemnly, it being the day of the 
King's murder; and they being at 
church, I presently into the church. 
This is the first time I have been in the 
church since I left London for the 
plague, and it frightened me indeed to 
go thi'ough the church — more than I 
thought it could have done — to see so 
many graves lie so high upon the 
churchyards, where people have been 
buried of the plague. I was much 
troubled at it, and do not think to go 
through it again a good while. 

Feb. 1 3th. 
Comes Mr. Caesar, my boy's lute- 
master, Avhom I have not seen since the 
plague before, but he hath been in 
Westminster all this while, very well ; 
and tells me in the height of it how bold 
people there were, to go in sport to 
one another's burials ; and in spite, too, 
ill people would breathe in the faces, 
out of their windows, of well people 
going by. 



6. Extract from Reresby's Memoirs 
(p. 167). 

A dreadful plague raged in London 
during the summer of 1665, virhich 
swept away 97,309 persons. It was 
usual for people to drop down in the 
streets as they went about their busi- 
ness ; and a story is reported for a cer- 
tain truth, that a bag-piper being ex- 
cessively overcome with liquor, fell 
down in the street and there lay asleep. 
In this condition he was taken up and 
thrown into a cart betimes the next 
morning, and carried away with some 
dead bodies. Meanwhile he awoke 
from his sleep, it being now about day- 
break, and rising up began to play a 
tune, which so surprized the fellows 
that drove the cart, who could see 
nothing distinctly, that in a fright they 
betook themselves to their heels, and 
would have it that they had taken up 
the devil in the disguise of a dead 
man. 

But, to resume other things, I mar- 
ried. . . . 



GROUP XVI. 

THE FIRE OF LONDON, 1666 A. D. 



Extracts from Pepys' and Evelyn's 
Diaries. 

Pepys. 

Sept. 2nd (Lord's Day). 
Some of our maids sitting up late 
last night to get things ready against 
our feast to-day, Jane called us up 
about three in the morning to tell us of 
a great fire they saw in the City ; so I 
rose and slipped on my nightgown and 
went to her window, and thought it to 
be on the back side of Marke Lane at 
the farthest ; but being unused to such 



fires as followed, I thought it far 
enough off, and so went to bed again 
and to sleep. About seven, rose again 
to dress myself, and there looked out at 
the window, and saw the fire not so much 
as it was, and further off. So to my 
closet to set things to rights after 3-es- 
terday's cleaning. By-and-by Jane 
comes and tells me that she hears that 
above three hundred houses have been 
burned down to-night by the fire we saw, 
and that it is now burning down all Fish 
Street, by London Bridge. So I made 



132 



The Fire of London 



myself ready presently, and walked to 
the Tower, and there got up upon one 
of the high places, Sir J. Robinson's 
little son going up with me, and there 
I did see the houses at that end of the 
bridge all on fire, and an infinite great 
fire on this and the other side the end 
of the bridge, which, among other 
people, did trouble me for poor little 
Michell and our Sarah on the bridge. 
So down, with my heart full of trouble, 
to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who 
tells me that it begun this morning in 
the King's baker's house in Pudding 
Lane, and that it hath burned down St. 
Magnus's Church and most part of 
Fish Street already. So I down to the 
water-side, and there got a boat, and 
through bridge, and there saw a la- 
m.entable fire. Poor Michell' s house, 
as far as the Old Swan, already burned 
that way, and the fire running further, 
that, in a very little time, it got as far 
as the Steele-yard while I was there. 
Everybody endeavouring to remove their 
goods, and flinging into the river, or 
bringing them into lighters that lay off ; 
poor people staying in their houses as 
long as till the very fire touched them, 
and then running into boats, or clam- 
bering from one pair of stairs by the 
water-side to another. And, amongst 
other things, the poor pigeons, I per- 
ceive, were loth to leave their houses, 
but hovered about the windows and 
balconies, till they burned their wings 
and fell down. Having stayed, and in 
an hour's time seen the fire rage every 
way, and nobody, to my sight, endeav- 
ouring to quench it, but to remove their 
goods, and leave all to the fire, and 
having seen it get as far as the Steele- 
yard, and the wind mighty high, and 
driving it into the City : and every- 
thing, after so long a drought, proving 
combustible, even the very stones of 
churches ; and, among other things, 
the poor steeple by which pretty Mrs. 



lives, and whereof my old school- 
fellow Elborough is parson, taken fire 
in the very top, and there burned till it 
fell down. I to Whitehall, with a 
gentleman with me, who desired to go 
off from the Tower to see the fire in 
my boat, and there up to the King's 
closet in the chapel, where people 
came about me, and I did give them an 
account dismayed thern^ all, and word 
was carried in to the King. So I was 
called for, and did tell the King and 
Duke of York what I saw, and that, 
unless his Majesty did command houses 
to be pulled down, nothing could stop 
the fire. They seemed much troubled, 
and the King commanded me to go to 
my Lord Mayor from him, and com- 
mand him to spare no houses, but to 
pull down before the fire every way. 
The Duke of York bid me tell him 
that if he would have any more sol- 
diers he shall, and so did my Lord 
Arlington afterwards as a great secret. 
Here meeting with Captain Cocke, I 
in his coach, which he lent me, and 
Creed with me to Paul's; and there 
walked along Watling Street, as well 
as I could, everv creature coming away 
laden with goods to save, and here and 
there sick people carried away in beds. 
Extraordinary good goods carried in 
carts and on backs. At last met my 
Lord Mayor in Canning Street, like a 
man spent, with a hankercher about his 
neck. To the King's message he cried 
like a fainting woman, "Lord! what 
can I do ? I am spent : people will not 
obey me. I have been pulling down 
houses, but the fire overtakes us faster 
than we can do it." That he needed 
no more soldiers, and that, for himself, 
he must go and refresh himself, having 
been up all night. So he left me and 
I him, and walked home, seeing peo- 
ple almost distracted, and no manner 
of means used to quench the fire. The 
houses, too, so very thick thereabouts, 



The Fire of London 



133 



anil full of matter for burning, as pitch 
and tar in Thames Street; and ware- 
houses of oil, and' wines, and brandy, 
and other things. Here I saw Mr. 
Isaac Houblon, the handsome man, 
prettily dressed and dirty at his door 
at Dovvgate, .receiving some of his 
brother's things, whose houses were on 
fire, and, as he 'says, have been re- 
moved twice already ; and he, doubts, 
as it .soon proved, that there must be in 
a little time removed from his liouse 
also, which was a' sad consideration. 
And to see the' churches all filling with 
goods by people who themselves should ' 
have been quietly there at this ' time. 
By this time it was about twelve 
•o'clock, and so home, and there find 
my guests, who were Mr. Wood and 
his wife Barbary Shelden, and also Mr. ■ 
Moone, she mighty fine, and her hus- 
band, for aught 1 see, "a likely' man. 
But Mr. Moone's design and 'mine, 
which was to look over my closet, and 
please him with the sight thereof, 
which he hath long desired, was wholly 
disappointed ; for we were in great ' 
trouble and disturbance at this fire, not 
knowing what to think of it. How- 
ever we had an extraordinary good din- 
ner, and merry as at this time we could 
be. While at dinner, Mrs. Batelier 
came to inquire after Mr. Woolfe and 
Stanes, who, it seems, are related to 
them, whose houses in Fish Street are 
all burned, and they in a sad condition. 
She would not stay in the fright. Soon 
as dined, I and Moone away, and 
walked through the City, the streets 
full of nothing but people, and horses 
and carts laden with goods, ready to 
run over one another, and removing 
goods from one burned house to ■ an- 
other. They now removing out of 
Canning Street, which received goods 
in the morning, into Lumbard Street, 
and further ; and amongst others I now 
saw my little goldsmith Stokes receiv- 



ing some friends 'goods whose house 
itself was burned the day after. We 
parted at Paul's, he home and I to 
Paul's Wharf, where I had appointed 
a boat to attend me, and took in Mr. 
Carcasse and his brother, whom I met 
in the street, and carried them below 
and above bridge too. And again to 
see the fire, which was now got further, 
both below and above, and no likeli- 
hood of stopping it. Met with the 
King and Duke of York in their barge, 
and with 'them to Qiieenhithe, and 
there called Sir Richard Browne to 
them. Their order was only to pull 
down houses apaces, and so below 
bridge at the water-side ; but little was 
or could be done, the fire coming upon 
them so fast. Good hopes there was 
of stopping it at the "Three Cranes" 
above, and at Botolph's Wharf below 
bridge, if care be used ; but the wind 
carries it into the City, so as we know 
not, by the water-side, what it do there. 
River full of lighters and boats, taking 
in goods, and good goods swimming in 
the water ; and only I observed that 
hardly one lighter or boat in three that 
had the goods of a house in, but there 
was a pair of virginals in it. Having 
seen as much as I could now, I away 
to Whitehall by appointment, and there 
walked to St. James's Park, and there 
met my wife and Creed, and Wood 
and his wife, and walked to my boat ; 
and there upon the water again, and to 
the fire up and down, it still increasing 
and the wind great. So near the fire 
as we could for smoke ; and all over 
the Thames, with one's faces in the 
wind, you were almost burned with a 
shower of fire-drops. This is very 
true : so as houses were burned by 
these drops and flakes of fire, three or 
four, nay, five or six houses, one from 
another. When we could endure no 
more upon the water, we to a little ale- 
house on the bankslde, over against the 



134 



The Fire of London 



" Three Cranes," and there stayed till 
it was dark almost, and saw the fire 
grow ; and as it grew darker appeared 
inore and more ; and in corners and 
upon steeples, and between churches 
and houses, as far as we could see up 
the hill of the City, in a most horrid, 
malicious, bloody flame, not like the 
fine flame of an ordinary fire. Bar- 
bary and her husband away before us. 
We stayed till, it being darkish, we 
saw the fire as only one entire arch of 
fire from this to the other side the 
bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an 
arch of above a mile long : it made me 
weep to see it. The churches, houses, 
and all on fire, and flaming at once ; 
and a horrid noise the flames made, 
and the cracking of houses at their 
ruin. So home with a sad heart, and 
there find everbody discoursing and 
lamenting the fire ; and poor Tom 
Hater came with some few of his 
goods saved out of his house, which 
was burned upon Fish Street Hill. I 
invited him to lie at my house, and did 
receive his goods, but was deceived in 
lying there, the news coming every 
moment of the growth of the fire, so as 
we were forced to begin to pack up our 
own goods, and prepare for their re- 
moval ; and did by moonshine, it being 
brave, dry, and moonshine and warm 
weather, carry inuch of my goods into 
the garden ; and Mr. Hater and I did 
remove my money and iron chests into 
my cellar, as thinking that the safest 
place. And got my bags of gold into 
my office ready to carry away, and my 
chief papers of accounts also there, and 
my tallies into a box by themselves. So 
great was our fear that Sir W. Batten 
hath carts come out of the country to 
fetch away his goods this night. We 
did put Mr. Hater, poor man, to bed a 
little ; but he got but very little rest, so 
much noise being in my house taking 
down of goods. 



Evelyn. 

Sept. 3rd. 

I had public prayers at home. The 
fire continuing, after dinner I took 
coach with my Wife and Sonn and 
went to the Bank side in Southwark, 
where we beheld that dismal spectacle, 
the whole citty in dreadfuU flames neare 
the water side ; all the houses from 
the Bridge, all Thames streete, and 
upwards towards Cheapeside, downe 
to the Three Cranes, were now con- 
sum'd; and so returned exceeding as- 
tonished what would become of the 
rest. 

The fire having continued all this 
night (if I may call that night which 
was light as day for 10 miles round 
about, after a dreadfu-ll manner) wlien 
conspiring with a fierce eastern wind 
in a very drie season ; I went on foote 
to the same place, and saw ye whole 
south part on ye citty burning from 
Cheapeside to ye Thames, and all along 
Cornehill (for it likewise kindled back 
against ye wind as well as forward), 
Tower streete. Fen-church streete, 
Gracious streete, and so along to Bain- 
ard's Castle, and was now taking hold 
of St. Paule's church, to which the 
scaffolds contributed exceedingly. The 
conflagration was so universal, and the 
people so astonish' d, that from the 
beginning, I know not by what despond- 
ency or fate, they hardly stirr'd to 
quench it, so that there was nothing 
heard or seene but crying out and lam- 
entation, running about like distracted 
creatures without at all attempting to 
save even their goods ; such a strange 
consternation there was upon tliem, so 
as it burned both in breadth and length, 
the churches, public halls, Exchange, 
hospitals, monuments, and ornainents, 
leaping after a prodigious manner, from 
house to house and streete to streete, at 
greate distances one from ye other; for 
ye heate with a long set of faire and 



The Fire of London 



135 



warm weather had even ignited the aire 
and prepar'd the materials to conceive 
the fire, which, devour' d after an in- 
credible manner houses, furniture, and 
everything. Here we saw the Thames 
cover' d witli goods floating, all the 
barges and boates laden with what some 
had time and courage to save, as, on ye 
other, ye carts, etc. carrying out to the 
fields, which for many miles were 
strewed with moveables of all sorts, and 
tents erecting to shelter both people and 
what goods they could get away. Oh 
the miserable and calamitous spectacle ! 
such as happly the world had not seene 
since the foundation of it, nor be out- 
don till the universal conflagration there- 
of. All the skie was of a fiery aspect, 
like the top of a burning oven, and the 
light seene above 40 miles round about 
for many nights. God grant mine 
eyes may never behold the like, who 
now saw above 10,000 houses all in 
one flame ; the noise and cracking and 
thunder of the impetuous flames, ye 
shrieking of women and children, the 
hurry of people, the fall of towers, 
houses, and churches, was like an 
hideous storme, and the aire all about 
so hot and inflam'd that at the last one 
was not able to approach it, so that 
they were forc'd to stand still and let 
ye flames burn on, which they did for 
neere two miles in length and one in 
breadth. The clouds also of smoke 
were dismall and reach' d upon compu- 
tation neer 50 miles in length. Thus 
I left it this afternoone burning, a re- 
semblance of Sodom, or the last day. 
It forcibly call'd to my mind that pas- 
sage — noti enim hie habemus stabile7}i 
civitatem; the ruines resembling the 
picture of Troy. London was, but is 
no more ! Thus I returned. 

Pepys. 

Sept. 3rd. 
About four o'clock in the morning 



my Lady Batten sent me a cart to carry 
away all my money, and plate, and best 
things, to Sir W. Rider's at Bednall 
Green, which I did, riding myself in 
my nightgown, in the cart ; and Lord ! 
to see how the streets and the highways 
are crowded with people running and 
riding, and getting of carts at any rate 
to fetch away things. I find Sir W. 
Rider tired with being called up all 
night, and receiving things from several 
friends. Llis house full of goods, and 
much of Sir W. Batten's and Sir W. 
Pen's. I am eased at my heart to have 
my treasure so well secured. Then 
home, and with much ado to find a 
way, nor any sleep all this night to me 
nor my poor wife. But then all this 
day she and I and all my people labour- 
ing to get away the rest of our things, 
and did get Mr. Tooker to get me a 
lighter to take them in, and we did 
carry them, myself some, over Tower 
Hill, which was by this time full of 
people's goods, bringing their goods 
thither : and down to the lighter, which 
lay at the next quay, above the Tower 
Dock. And here was my neighbour's 

wife, Mrs. , with her pretty child, 

and some few of her things, which I 
did willingly give way to be saved with 
mine : but there was no passing with 
anything through the postern, the crowd 
was so great. The Duke of York came 
this day by the office and spoke to us, 
and did ride with his guard up and 
down the City to keep all quiet, he being 
now general, and having the care of 
all. This day, Mercer being not at 
home, but against her mistress's order 
gone to her mother's, and my wife 
going thither to speak with W. Hewer, 
beat her there, and was angry, and her 
mother saying that she was not a 'pren- 
tice girl, to ask leave every time she 
goes abroad, my wife with good reason 
was angry; and, when she came home, 
did bid her begone again. And so she 



136 



The Fire of London 



went away, which troubled me, but yet 
less than it would, because of the con- 
dition we are in, in fear of coming in a 
little time to being less able to keep one 
in her quality. At night, lay down a 
little upon a quilt of W. Hewer's in 
the office, all my own things being 
packed up or gone ; and after, me, my 
poor wife did the like, we having fed 
upon the remains of yesterday's dinner, 
having no fire nor dishes, nor any op- 
portunity of dressing anything. 

Evelyn. 

Sept. 4th. 
The burning still rages ; and it was 
now gotten as far as the Inner Temple ; 
all Fleet streete, the Old Bailey, Lud- 
gate Hill, Warwick Lane, Newgate, 
Paules chaine, Watling streete, now 
flaming, and most of it reduc'd to ashes ; 
the stones of Paules flew like granados, 
ye mealting lead running downe the 
streetes in a streame, and the very pave- 
ments glowing with fiery rednesse, so 
as no horse nor man was able to tread 
on them, and the demolition had 
stopp'd all the passages, so that no 
help could be applied. The eastern 
wind still more impetuously driving the 
flames forward. Nothing ' but ye 
almighty power of God was able to 
stop them, for vaine was ye help of 
man. 

Pefys. 

Sept. 4th. 
Up by break of day, to get away the 
remainder of my things, which I did by 
a lighter at the Iron gate, and my hands 
so full, that it was the afternoon before 
we could get them all away. Sir W. 
Pen and I to the Tower Street, and 
there met the fire burning, three or four 
doors beyond Mr. Howell's, whose 
goods, poor inan, his trays, and dishes, 
shovels, &c., were flung all along 
Tower Street in the kennels, and 
people working wherewith from one 



end to the other, the fire coming on in 
that narrow street, on both sides, with 
infinite fury. Sir W. Batten, not 
knowing how to remove his wine, did 
dig a pit in his garden, and laid it in 
there ; and I took the opportunity of 
laying all the papers of my office that 
I could not otherwise dispose of. And 
in the evening Sir W. Pen and I did 
dig another, and put our wine in it ; 
and I my Parmesan cheese, as well as 
my wine and some other things. The 
Duke of York was at the office this day, 
at Sir W. Pen's, but I happened not to 
be within. This afternoon, sitting mel- 
ancholy with Sir W. Pen in our garden, 
and thinking of the certain burningr of 
this oflice, without extraordinary means, 
I did propose for the sending up of all 
our workmen from the Woolwich and 
Deptford yards, none whereof yet ap- 
peared, and to write to Sir W. Coven- 
try to have the Duke of York's permis- 
sion to pull down houses, rather than 
lose this office, which would much 
hinder the King's business. So Sir W. 
Pen went down this night, in order to 
the sending them up to-morrow morn- 
ing ; and I wrote to Sir W. Coventry 
about the business, but received no 
answer. This night Mrs. Turner, who, 
poor woman, was removing her goods 
all this day, good goods, into the gar- 
den, and knows not how to dispose of 
them, and her husband supped with my 
wife and me at night, in the office, upon 
a shoulder of mutton from the cook's 
without any napkin, or anything, in a 
sad manner, but were merry. Only 
now and then, walking into the garden, 
saw how horribly the sky looks, all on 
a fire in the night, was enough to put 
us out of our wits ; and, indeed, it was 
extremely dreadful, for it looks just as 
if it was at us, and the whole heaven 
on fire. I after supper walked in the 
dark down Tower Street, and there saw 
it all on fire, at the Trinity House on 



The Fire of London 



137 



that side, and the Dolphin Tavern on 
this side, which was very near us, and 
tire fire with extraordinary vehemence. 
Now begins the practice of blowing up 
of houses in Tower .Street, those next 
the Tower, which at first did frigliten 
people more than anything ; but it 
stopped the fire where it was done, it 
bringing down the houses to the ground 
in the same places they stood, and then 
it was easy to quench what little fire 
was in it, though it kindled nothing 
almost. W. Hewer this day went to 
see how his mother did, and comes late 
home, telling us how he hath been 
forced to remove her to Islington, her 
bouse in Pye Corner being burned ; so 
that the fire has got so far that way and 
to the Old Bailey, and was running 
down to Fleet Street; and Paul's is 
burned, and all Cheapside. I wrote to 
my father this night, but the post-house 
being burned, the letter could not go. 

Evelyn . 

Sept. 5th. 
It crossed towards Whitehall ; but 
•oh, the confusion there was then at the 
Court! It pleas' d his Majesty to com- 
mand me among ye rest to looke after 
the quenching of Fetter lane end, to 
preserve if possible that part of Hol- 
born, whilst the rest of ye gentlemen 
tooke their several posts, some at one 
part, some at another (for now they 
began to bestir theinselves, and not till 
now, who hitherto had stood as men 
intoxicated, with their hands acrosse) 
and began to consider that nothing was 
likely to put a stop but the blowing up 
of so many houses as might make a 
wider gap than any had yet been made 
by the ordinary method of pulling them 
downe with engines ; this some stout 
seamen propos'd early enough to have 
sav'd neere ye whole citty, but this 
some tenacious and avaritious men, 
aldermen, etc., would not permitt. 



because their houses must have btn 
of the first. It was therefore now 
commanded to be practic'd, and my 
concerne being particularly for the 
Hospital of St. Bartholomew neere 
Smithfield, where I had many wounded 
and sick men, made me the more 
diligent to promote it ; nor was my 
care for the Savoy lesse. It now 
pleas' d God by abating the wind, and 
by the Industrie of ye people, when 
almost all was lost, infusing a new 
spirit into them, that the furie of it 
began sensibly to abate about noone, so 
as it came no farther than ye Temple 
westward, nor than ye entrance of 
Smithfield north; but continu'd all this 
day and night so impetuous toward 
Cripplegate and the Tower as made 
us all despaire ; it also brake out againe 
in the Temple, but the courage of the 
multitude persisting, and many houses 
being blown up, such gaps and desola- 
tions were soone made, as with the 
former three days consumption, the 
back fire did not so vehemently urge 
upon the rest asformerly. Therewasyet 
no standing neere the burning and glow- 
ing mines by neere a furlong's space. 

The coale and wood wharfes and 
magazines of oyle, rosin, etc., did 
infinite mischiefe, so as the invective 
which a little before I had dedicated to 
his Ma'ty and publish' d, giving warning 
what might probably be ■ the issue of 
suffering those shops to be in the Citty, 
was look'd on as a prophecy. 

The poore inhabitants were dispers'd 
about St. George's Fields, and Moore- 
fields, as far as Highgate, and severall 
miles in circle, some under tents, some 
under miserable hutts and hovells, 
many without a rag or any necessary 
utensills, bed or board, who from deli- 
catnesse, riches, and easy accomoda- 
tions in stately and well furnish' d 
houses, were now reduc'd to extreamest 
misery and poverty. 



138 



The Fire of London 



In this calamitous condition I re- 
turn' d with a sad heart to my house, 
blessing and adoring the distinguishing 
mercy of God to me and mine, who in 
the midst of all this ruine was like 
Lot, in my little Zoar, safe and sound. 

Pepys. 

Sept. 5th. 
I lay down in the office again upon 
W. Hewer's quilt, being mighty weary, 
and sore in my feet with going till I 
was hardly able to stand. About two 
in the morning my wife calls me up, 
and tells me of new cries of fire, it 
being come to Barking Church, which 
is the bottom of our lane. I up, and 
finding it so, resolved presently to take 
her away, and did, and took my gold, 
which was about £2,350, W. Hewer, 
and Jane down by Proundy's boat to 
Woolwich ; but, Lord ! what a sad 
sight it was by moonlight, to see the 
whole city almost on fire, that you 
might see it as plain at Woolwich as if 
you were by it. There, when I came, 
I find the gates shut, but no guard kept 
at all, which troubled me, because of 
discourses now begun, that there is a 
plot in it, and that the French had done 
it. I got the gates open, and to Mr. 
Sheklen's, where I locked up my gold, 
and charged my wife and W. Hewer 
never to leave the room without one of 
them in it, night or day. So back again, 
by the way seeing my goods well in 
the lighters at Deptford, and watched 
well by people. Home, and whereas I 
expected to have seen our house on 
fire, it being now about seven o'clock, 
it was not. But to the fire, and there 
find greater hopes than I expected, for 
my confidence of finding our office on 
fire was such, that I durst not ask any- 
body how it was with us, till I came 
and saw it was not burned. But, going 
to the fire, I find, by the blowing up of 
houses and the great help given by the 



workmen out of the King's yards, sent 
up by Sir W. Pen, there is a good stop 
given to it, as well at Marke Lane end 
as ours, it having only burned the dial 
of Barking Church, and part of the 
porch, and was there quenched. I up 
to the top of Barking steeple, and 
there saw the saddest sight of desola- 
tion that ever I saw ; everywhere great 
fires, oil-cellars, and brimstone, and 
other things burning. I became afraid 
to stay there long, and therefore down 
again as fast as I could, the fire being 
spread as far as I could see ; and to Sir 
W. Pen's, and there ate a piece of cold 
meat, having eaten nothing since Sun- 
day but the remains of Sunday's dinner. 
Here I met with Mr. Young and 
Whistler; and, having removed all my 
things, and received good hopes that 
the fire at our end is stopped, they and 
I walked into the town, and find Fen- 
church Street, Gracious Street, and 
Lumbard Street all in dust. The Ex- 
change a sad sight, nothing standing 
there, of all the statues or pillars, but 
Sir Thomas Gresham's picture in the 
corner. Into Moorefields, our feet ready 
to burn, walking through the town 
among the hot coals, and find that full 
of people, and poor wretches carrying 
their goods there, and everybody keep- 
ing his goods together by themselves, 
and a great blessing it is to them that 
it is fair weather for them to keep 
abroad night and day ; drunk there, 
and paid twopence for a plain penny 
loaf. Thence homeward, having 
passed through Cheapside and New- 
gate market, all burned ; and seen 
Anthony Joyce's house on fire; and 
took up, which I keep by me, a piece 
of glass of the Mercer's Chapel in the 
street, where much more was, so 
melted and buckled with the heat of 
the fire like parchment. I also did see 
a poor cat taken out of a hole in a 
chimney, joining to the wall of the 



The Fire ol London 



'39 



Exchange, with the hair all burned off 
the body, and yet alive. So home at 
night and find there good hopes of sav- 
ing our office ; but great endeavours of 
watching all night, and having men 
ready, and so we lodged them in the 
office, and had drink and bread and 
cheese for them. And I lay down and 
slept a good night about midnight, 
though, when I rose, I heard that there 
had been a great alarm of French and 
Dutch being risen, which proved noth- 
ing. But it is a strange thing to .'ee 
how long this time did look since 
Sunday, having been always full of 
variety of actions, and little sleep, that 
it looked like a week or more, and I 
had forgot almost the day of the week. 

Evelyn. 

Sept. 6th, Thursday. 
I represented to his Ma^y the case of 
the French prisoners at war in my cus- 
todie, and besought him that there 
might be still the same care of watching 
at all places contiguous to unseised 
houses. It is not indeede imaginable 
how extraordinary the vigilance and 
activity of the King and the Duke was, 
even labouring in person, and being 
present to command, order, reward, or 
encourage workmen, by which lie 
shewed his affection to his people and 
gained theirs. Having then dispos'd of 
some under cure at the Savoy, I return' d 
to White-hall, where I din'd at Mr. 
Offley's, the groome porter, who was 
my relation. 



Pepys. 



Sept. 6. 



Up about five o'clock, and met Mr. 
Gauden at the gate of the office, I in- 
tending to go out as I used, every now 
and then to-day, to see how the fire is, 
and call our men to Bishopsgate, where 
no fire had yet been near, and there is 
now one broken out, which did give 



great grounds to people, and to me too, 
to think that there is some kind of plot 
in this, on which many by this time 
have been taken, and it hath been dan- 
gerous for any stranger to walk in the 
streets, but I went with the men, and 
we did put it out in a little time, so 
that that was well again. It was 
pretty to see how hard the women did 
work in the kennels, sweeping of water : 
but then they would scold for drink, 
and be as drunk as devils. I saw good 
butts of sugar broke open in the street, 
and people give and take handfuls out, 
and put into beer and drink it. And 
now all being pretty well, I took boat, 
and over to Southwarke, and took boat 
on the other side the bridge, and so lo 
Westminster, thinking to shift myself, 
being all in dirt from top to bottom, 
but could not there find any place to 
buy a shirt or a pair of gloves. West- 
minster Hall being full of people's 
goods, those in Westminster having re- 
moved all their goods, and the Ex- 
chequer money put into vessels to carry 
to Nonsuch, but to the " Swan," and 
there was trimmed ; and then to White- 
hall, but saw nobody, and so home. A 
sad sight to see how the river looks : no 
houses nor church near it, to the Temple, 
where it stopped. At home, did go 
with Sir W. Batten, and our neighbour 
Knightly, who, with one more, was 
the only man of any fashion left in all 
the neighbourhood thereabouts, they all 
removing their goods, and leaving their 
houses to the mercv of the fire. To 
Sir R. Ford's, and there dined in an 
earthen platter — a fried breast of mut- 
ton ; a great many of us, but very- 
merry, and indeed as good a meal, 
though as ugly a one as ever I had in 
my life. Thence down to Deptford, 
and there with great satisfaction landed 
all my goods at Sir J. Carterets safe, 
and nothing missed I could see or hear. 
This being done to my great content, I 



140 



The Fire of London 



home, and to Sir W. Batten's, and 
there with Sir R. Ford, Mr. Knightly, 
and one Withers, a professed lying 
rogue, supped well, and mighty meny, 
and our fears over. From them to the 
office, and there slept with the office 
full of labourers, who talked, and slept, 
and walked all night long there. But 
strange it is to see Cloth-worker's Hall 
on fire these three days and nights in 
one body of flame, it being the cellar 
full of oil. 

Sept 7. 

Up by five o'clock, and, blessed be 
Gud ! find all well, and by water to 
Pane's wharf. Walked thence, and 
saw all the town burned, and a miser- 
able sight of Paul's Church, with all 
the roofs fallen, and the body of the 
choir fallen into St. Fayth's ; Paul's 
school also, Ludgate and Fleet Street. 
My father's house, and the church, and 
a good part of the Temple the like. So 
to Creed's lodging, near the new Ex- 
change, and there find him laid down 
upon a bed, the house all unfurnished, 
there being fears of the fire's coming 
to them. There borrowed a shirt of 
him and washed. 

JSvelyn. 

Sept 7th. 

I went this morning on foote from 
Whitehall as far as London-Bridge, 
thro' the late Fleete-streete, Ludgate 
hill, by St. Paules, Cheapeside, Ex- 
change, Bishopsgate, Aldersgate, and 
out to Moorefields, thence thro' Corne- 
hill, etc., with extraordinary difficulty, 
clambering over heaps of yet smoking 
rubbish and frequently mistaking where 
I was. The ground under my feete so 
hot, that it even burnt the soles of my 
shoes. In the mean time his Majesty 
got to the Tower by water, to demolish 
ye houses about the graff, which being 
built intirely about it, had they taken 



fire and attack 'd the White Tower 
where the magazine of powder laj', 
would undoubtedly not only have beaten 
downe and destroy' d all ye bridge, but 
sunke and torne the vessels in ye river, 
and render' d ye demolition beyond all 
expression for several miles about the 
countrey. 

At my returne I was infinitely con- 
cern' d to find that goodl}' Church St. 
Paules now a sad ruine, and that beau- 
tiful j^ortico (for structure comparable 
to any in Europe as not long before 
repair' d by the late Kirig) now rent in 
pieces, flakes of v;ist stone split asun- 
der, and nothing remaining intire but 
the inscription in the architrave, shew- 
ing by whom it was built, which had 
not one letter of it defac'd. It was 
astonishing to see what immense stones 
the heate had in a manner calcin'd, so 
that all ye ornaments, columns, freezes, 
capitals, and projectures of massie Port- 
land stone flew off, even to ye very 
roofe, where a sheet of lead covering a 
great space (no less than six akers by 
measure) was totally mealted ; the 
mines of the vaulted roofe falling 
broke into St. Faith's, which being 
fill'd with the magazines of bookes 
belonging to ye Stationers, and carried 
thither for safety, they were all con- 
sum' d, burning for a weeke following. 
It is also observable that the lead of ye 
altar at ye east end was untouchd, and 
among the divers monuments, the body 
of one Bishop remain' d intire. Thus 
lay in ashes that most venerable church, 
one of the most antient pieces of early 
piety in ye Christian world, besides 
neere 100 more. The lead, iron 
worke, bells, plate, etc. mealted ; the 
exquisitely wrought Mercers Chapell, 
the sumptuous Exchange, ye august 
fabriq of Christ Church, all ye rest of 
the Companies Halls, splendid build- 
ings, arches, enterics, all in dust ; the 
fountaines dried up and ruin'd, whilst 



The Fire of London 



141 



the very waters remain'd boiling; the 
voragos of subterranean cellars, wells, 
and dungeons, formerly warehouses, 
still burning in stench and dark clowds 
of smoke, so that in five or six miles 
traversing about, I did not see one 
loade of timber unconsum'd, nor many 
stones but what were calcin'd white as 
snow. The people who now walk'd 
about ye mines appear' d like men in 
some dismal desert, or rather in some 
greate citty laid waste by a cruel 
enemy; to which was added the stench 
that came from some poore creatures 
bodies, beds, and other combustible 
goods. Sir Tho. Gresham's statue, 
tho' fallen from its nich in the Royal 
Exchange, remain'd intire, when all 
those of ye Kings since ye Conquest 
were broken to pieces; also the stand- 
ard in Cornehill, and Q. Elizabeth's 
effigies, with some armes on Ludgate, 
continued with but little detriment, 
whilst the vast yron chaines of the 
Citty streetes, hinges, barrs and gates 
of prisons were many of them mealted 
and reduced to cinders by ye vehement 
heate. Nor was I yet able to pass 
through any of the narrower streetes, 
but kept the widest ; the ground and 
air, smoake and fiery vapour, continu'd 
so intense that my haire was almost 
sing'd, and my feete unsufferably sur- 
bated. The bye lanes and narrower 
streetes were quite fill'd up with rub- 
bish, nor could one have possibly 
knowne where he was, but by ye mines 
of some Church or Hall, that had 
some remarkable tower or pinnacle 
remaining. I then went towards Is- 
lington and Highgate, where one might 
have seen 300,000 people of all ranks 
and degrees dispei's'd and lying along 
by their heapes of what they could 
save from the fire, deploring their 
losse, and tho' ready to perish for hun- 
ger and destitution, yet not asking one 
penny for reliefe, which to me appear' d 



a stranger sight than any I had yet 
beheld. His Majesty and Council 
indeede tooke all imaginable care for 
their reliefe by proclamation for the 
country to come in and refresh them 
with provisions. In ye midst of all 
this calamity and confusion, there was, 
I know not how, an alarme begun that 
the French and Dutch, with whom we 
were now in hostility, were not onely 
landed, but even entering the Citty. 
There was in truth some daj's before 
great suspicion of those two nations 
joyning ; and now, that they had ben 
the occasion of firing the towne. This 
report did so terrific, that on a suddaine 
there was such an uproare and tumult 
that they ran from their goods, and 
taking what weapons they could come 
at, they could not be stopp'd from fall- 
ing on some of those nations whom 
they casually met, without sense or 
reason. The clamor and peril grew so 
excessive that it made the whole Court 
amaz'd, and they did with infinite 
paines and greate difficulty reduce and 
appease the people, sending troops of 
soldiers and guards to cause them to 
retire into ye fields againe, where they 
were watch' d all this night. I left 
them pretty quiet, and came home suf- 
ficiently weary and broken. Their 
spirits thus a little calmed, and the 
affright abated, they now began to 
repaire into ye suburbs about the Citty, 
where such as had friends or oppor- 
tunity got shelter for the present, to 
which his Ma'y'= proclamation also in- 
vited them. 

Still ye plague continuing in our 
parish, I could not without danger 
adventure to our church. 

Reresby. 

Many were the conjectures of the 
cause of this fire ; some said it was 
done by the French, others by the 
Papists ; but it was certainly mere acci- 



142 



The Court of Charles 11. 



dent. But, however it happened, the 
dreadful effects of it were not so strange 
as the rebuilding was of this great city, 
which, by reason of the King's and Par- 
liament's care (then sitting), and the 



great wealth and opulency of the city 
itself, was rebuilt most stately with 
brick (the greatest part being before 
nothing but lath and lime) in four or 
five years' time. 



GROUP XVII. 



THE COURT OF CHARLES II. 



I . Extracts from the Diaries of Pepys 
and Evelyn. 

Pepys. 

August 31, 1 66 1. 
At Court things are in very ill condi- 
tion, there being so much emulation, 
poverty, and the vices of drinking, 
swearing, etc., that I know not what 
will be the end of it, but confusion. 
And the clergy so high, that all the 
people that I meet with do protest 
against their practice. In short, I see 
no content or satisfaction anywhere in 
any one sort of people. The Benevo- 
lence proves so little, and an occasion 
of so much discontent everywhere that 
it had better had it never been set up. 
I think to subscribe twenty pound. 

Evelyn. 

Jan. 6th, 1661-3. 
This evening according to costome, 
his Majesty opened the revells of that 
night by throwing the dice himself in 
the privy chamber, where was a table 
set on purpose, and lost his £100. 
(The yeare before he won 1500/.) 
The ladies also plaied very deepe. I 
came away when the Duke of Ormond' 
had won about 1000/, and left them 
still at passage, cards, etc. At other 
tables, both there and at ye Groom- 
porter's, observing the wicked foil}' and 
monstrous excesse of passion amongst 
some loosers ; sorry am I that such a 
wretched costome as play to that excesse 
should be countenanc'd in a court 
which ought to be an example of virtue 
to the rest of the kingdome. 



Pepys. 

May 15, 1662. 
To Westminster ; and at the Privy 
Seal I saw Mr. Coventry's seal for his 
being Commissioner with us. At night, 
all the bells of the town rung, and bon- 
fires made for the joy of the Queen's 
arrival, who landed at Portsmouth last 
night. But I do not see much true joy, 
but only an indifferent one, in the 
hearts of the people, who are much dis- 
contented at the pride and luxury of 
the Court, and running in debt. 

Evelyn. 

May 30th, 1662. 
The Queene arrived with a traine of 
Portuguese ladies in their monsti'ous 
fardingals or guard-infantas, their com- 
plexions olivader and sufficiently un- 
agreeable. Her Majesty in the same 
habit, her foretop long and turn'd aside 
very strangely. She was yet of the 
handsomest countenance of all ye rest, 
and tho' low of stature prettily shaped, 
languishing and excellent eyes, her 
teeth wronging her mouth by sticking 
a little too far out ; for the rest lovely 
enough. 

Pepys. 

May 31st, 1662. 
The Queen is brought a few days 
since to Hampton Court : and all people 
say of her to be a very fine and hand- 
some lady, and very discreet ; and that 
the King is pleased enough with her : 
which, I fear, will put Madam Castle- 
maine's nose out of joint. The court is 
wholh' now at Hampton. 




CavhawNA D.G. maQnce hntamnefmnnmktPtthmm.reomn, 

.'/,-/,:,-/- l7 Q. /r .HaHanJi-i' ex. 



The Court of Charles II, 



H3 



June 30th. 
This I take to be as bad a juncture 
as ever I observed. The King and his 
new Q_ueen minding their pleasures at 
Hampton Court. All people discon- 
tented ; some that the King do not 
gratify them enough, and the others, 
fanatics of all sorts, that the King do 
take away their liberty of conscience ; 
and the height of the bishops, who I 
fear will ruin all again. They do much 
cry up the manner of Sir H. Vane's 
death, and he deserves it. Much 
clamour against the chimney money, 
and the people say they will not pay it 
without force. And in the meantime 
like to have war abroad, and Portugal 
to assist when we have not money to 
pay for any ordinary layings-out at 
home. 



3. Letter of Thomas Brown to M. de 
A. at Paris. (In the Compleat Works 
of Mr. Thomas Brown. London, 1710.) 

. . . We likewise went to see Hamp- 
ton-Court, where the Court is at pres- 
ent, and which is the Fountainbleau of 
England. We had the honour of see- 
ing their Majesties there. The young 
Qiieen is low, and of a brown com- 
plexion ; and by her face, 'tis easy to 
discover that she has a great deal of 
goodness and sweetness in her nature. 
She has brought some four or five 
Portuguese ladies with her, that are the 
most deform' d, ill-look' d Devils, that 
ever bore the name of women. When 
a man sees them among the English 
maids of Honour, that attend her, he 
would be apt to swear, that Heaven 
and Hell were jumbled together and 
that angels and furies were lately recon- 
ciled to one another. But this is not all 
the trumpery which the Qiieen has 
brought with her out of her own 
country ; for her Majesty has a consort, 
as 'tis called, of Citterns, Harps and the 



Lord knows what instruments, that 
make the most wretched harmony that 
ever was heard. Going to hear mass, 
we were obliged to suffer this vile per- 
secution ; and though I have none of 
the nicest ears, I never heard such hid- 
eous musick since I was born. As for 
Hampton-Court, 'tis a magnificent pile 
of buildings, but, upon my word, does 
not come up either to our St. Germains 
or Fountainbleau, no more than White- 
hall is to be put in the same scale with 
the Louvre or St. James's House with 
Luxemburgh Palace. When I was 
shewn that dismal place where the late 
King had his head cut off, I could not 
forbear to pour out a thousand impre- 
cations against this rebellious nation ; 
and was infinitely pleas' d to see the 
City Gates, and other eminent places, 
adorned with the heads and limbs of 
those execrable regicides. Cromwell's 
head, of accursed memory, was, very 
much to my satisfaction, placed over 
Westminster Hall. I wish that the 
publick examples of these criminals 
may deter all rebels for the future and 
secure the peace and dignity of the 
British throne, which has hardly re- 
cover' d the terrible shock it receiv'd in 
the late calamitous disorders. . . . 

Our pockets have been most cruelly 
emptied since we have been here ; for 
shilling is the word upon every occasion. 
. . . Methinks they talk of nothing 
but shilling, shilling, shilling everlast- 
ingly. . . . 



3. Extract from "The Secret History 
of the Reign of Charles II. by a Member 
of his PrivyCouncil." (London, 1793.) 

. . . Their majesties came together 
to Hampton-court on the 39th of Maj-, 
the King's birthday, and just two 
years after his triumphal entrance into 
London. 

Whatever testimonies of public joy 



144 



The Court of Charles II. 



were given on this occasion, j^et in a 
short time there appeared not that 
serenity at court wliich was expected. 
There was a lady of youth and beauty 
with whom the King had lived in great 
and notorious familiarity [Lady Castel- 
maine] . . . When the queen came to 
Hampton-court, she brought with her 
a formed resolution that she would 
never suffer the lady, who was so much 
spoken of, to be in her presence. The 
King was determined on the very re- 
verse ; and, in a day or two, led the lady 
himself into her Majesty's chamber, and 
presented her to the queen, who received 
her with the same grace as she had done 
the rest, there being many lords and 
other ladies at the same time there. But 
whether her majesty in the instant knew 
who she was, or upon recollection 
found it out afterwards, she no sooner 
sat down in her chair than her colour 
changed, tears gushed out of her ejes, 
her nose bled, and she fainted, so that 
she was forthwith removed into another 
room, and all the company withdrew. 
Though these were the natural work- 
ings of flesh and blood in a young and 
jealous wife, the king was so enraged, 
that, from that moment he treated the 
queen even in public with the utmost 
indifference and indignity, till her spirit 
being at length broken by such cruelty, 
and the firmness of her mind exhausted 
in useless struggles, she sunk into the 
opposite extreme of condescension and 
meanness. She not only admitted the 
lady to be of her bedchamber, and used 
her kindly in private, but was familiar 
and merry with her in public, so that her 
majesty forfeited all the compassion 
before felt for the barbarity of the af- 
fronts she underwent ; and the king' s 
indifference was now changed into a 
settled contempt. . . . The lady had 
apartments assigned her at court ; his 
majesty spent most of his time in her 
company. 



4. Extracts from Evelyn and Pepys. 

Evelyn . 

August 14th, 1662. 
This afternoone the Queene mother 
[Henrietta Maria] with the Earle of 
St. Albans and many greate ladies and 
persons, was pleas' d to honor my poore 
villa with her presence, and to accept 
of a collation. She was exceedingly 
pleas' d and stay'd till very late in the 
evening. 

August 23rd. 
I was spectator of the most magnifi- 
cent triumph that ever floated on the 
Thames, considering the innumerable 
boates and vessells, dress" d and adorned 
with all imaginable pomp, but above 
all the thrones, arches, pageants, and 
other representations, stately barges of 
the Lord Maior and companies, with 
various inventions, musiq and peales of 
ordnance both from ye vessells and the 
shore, going to meete a;ul conduct the 
new Qiieene from Hampton Court to 
White-hall, at the first time of her 
coming to town. In iny opinion it far 
exceeded all ye Venetian Bucentoras, 
etc., on the Ascension, when the}' go 
to espouse the Adriatic. His Majestie 
and the Qiieene came in an antiq-shap'd 
open vessell, cover' d with a state or 
canopy of cloth of gold, made in form 
of a cupola, supported with high Cor- 
inthian pillars, wreath' d with flowers, 
festoons and garlands. I was in our 
new-built vessell, sailing amongst them. 

Pepys. 

Oct. 19th, 1662 (Lord's-day). 
Put on my first new lace-band ; and 
so neat it is, that I am resolved my 
great expense shall be lace- bands, and 
it will set off anything else the more. 
I am sorry to hear that the news of the 
selling of Dunkirk is taken so gener- 
ally ill, as I find it is among the mer- 



The Court of Charles 11. 



H5 



chants ; and other things, as removal of 
officers at Court, good for worse; and 
all things else made much worse in 
their report among people than they 
are. And this night, I know not upon 
what ground, the gates of the City 
ordered to be all shut, and double 
guards everywhere. Indeed I do find 
everybody's spirit very full of trouble : 
and the things of the Court and Coun- 
cil very ill taken; so as to be apt to 
appear in bad colours, if there should 
ever be a beginning of trouble, which 
God forbid ! 

Dec. 35th. 
. . . Bishop Morley preached upon 
the song of the angels, "Glor)' to God 
on high, on earth, peace and good will 
towards men." Methought he made 
but a poor sermon, but long, and repre- 
hending the common jollity of the 
Court for the true joy that shall and 
ought to be on these days. Particular- 
ised concerning their excess in plays 
and gaming, saying that he whose 
office it is to keep the gamesters in 
order and within bounds, serves but for 
a second rather in a duel, meaning the 
groom-porter. Upon which it was 
worth observing how far they are come 
from taking the reprehensions of a 
bishop seriously, that they all laugh in 
the chapel vi'hen he reflected on their 
ill actions and courses. He did much 
press us to joy in these public days of 
joy, and to hospitality. But one that 
stood by whispered in my ear that the 
Bishop do not spend one groat to the 
poor himself. The sermon done, a 
good anthem followed with viols, and 
the King came down to receive the 
Sacrament. 

Feb. 231-d, 1663. 
This day I was told that my Lady 
Castlemaine hath all the King's Christ- 
mas presents made him by the peers 
given to her, which is a most abomin- 



able thing; and that at the great ball 
she was much richer in jewels than the 
Qiieen and Duchess put both together. 

Nov. 26, 1663. 
To Paul's Churchyard, and there 
looked upon the second part of " Hudi- 
bras," which I buy not, but borrow to 
read, to see if it be as good as the first, 
which the world cried so mightily up, 
though it hath not a good liking in me, 
though I had tried but twice or three 
times reading to bring myself to think 
it witty. To-day, for certain, I am 
told how in Holland publicly they have 
pictured our King with reproach : one 
way is with his pockets turned the 
wrong side outward, hanging out 
empty ; another with two coui'tiers 
picking of his pockets; and a third, 
leading of two ladies, while others 
abuse him ; which amounts to great 
contempt. 

39th (Lord's day). 
This morning I put on my best black 
cloth suit, trimmed with scarlet ribbon, 
very neat, with my cloak lined with 
velvet, and a new beaver, which al- 
together is very noble, with my black 
silk knit canons I bought a month ago. 



April iSth, 1664. 
To Hyde Park, where I have not 
been since last year, where I saw the 
King with his periwig, but not altered 
at all ; and my Lady Castlemaine in a 
coach by herself, in yellow satin and a 
pinner on, and many brave persons. 
And myself, being in a hackney and 
full of people, was ashamed to be 
seen by the world, many of them 
knowing me. 

May 31st, 1664. 
... I was told to-day that, upon 
Sunday night last, being the King's 
birthday, the King was at my Lady 



146 



The Court of Charles II. 



Castlemaine's lodgings, over the hither- 
gate at Lambert's lodgings, dancing 
with fiddlers all night almost ; and all 
the world coming by taking notice 
of it. 

October 36th, 1664. 
At Woolwich ; I there up to the 
King and Duke. Here I stayed above 
with them while the ship was launched, 
which was done with great success ; 
and the King did very much like the 
ship, saying, she had the best bow that 
ever he saw. But, Lord ! the sorry 
talk and discourse among the great 
courtiers round about him, without any 
reverence in the world, but with so 
much disorder. By-and-by the Qiieen 
comes and her maids of honour ; one 
whereof, Mrs. Boynton, and the Duch- 
ess of Buckingham had been very sick 
coming by water in the barge, the 
water being very rough ; but what 
silly sport they made with them in 
very common terms, methought was 
very poor, and below what people 
think these great people say and do. 

April 7, 1665. 
Sir Philip Warwick did show me 
nakedly the King's condition for money 
for the Navy ; and he assures me, 
unless the King can get some noblemen 
or rich money-gentlemen to lend him 
money, or to get the City to do it, it is 
impossible to find money ; we having 
already, as he says, spent one year's 
share of the three-years' tax, which 
comes to £2,500,000. 



5. Letters from D. de Repas to Sir 
Robert Harley. (In Ms. Commission 
Report, 14 Appendix.) 

Oxford (?) Oct. 19, 1665. 

[Shades of Bocaccio ! Three days before, 

as we have seen, Pepys wrote in his diary 

"I walked to the Tower; but Lord 1 how 

empty the streets are, and melancholy, so 



many poor sick people in the streets full of 
sores ; and so many sad stories overheard as 
I walk, everybody talking of this dead, and 
that man sick, and so many in this place, and 
so many in that." — Ed.] 

. . . For news from court I shall tell 
you that one cannot possibly know a 
woman from a man, unlesse one hath 
the eyes of a linx who can see through 
a wall, for by the face and garbe they 
are like men. They do not wear any 
hood but only men's perwick hatts and 
coats. There is no other plague here 
but the infection of love ; no other dis- 
course but of ballets, dance, and fine 
clouse ; no other emulation but who 
shall look the handsomere, and whose 
Vermillion and Spanish white is the best ; 
none other fight than for ' I am yours.' 
In a word there is nothing here but 
mirth, and there is a talk that there 
shall be a proclamacon made that anv 
melancoly man or woman coming in 
this towne shall be turned out and put 
to the pillory, and there to be whep till 
he hath learned the way to be mary a 
la mode. 

Oxford, Nov. 34th. 
The Duck of Monmouth gave last 
night a great balle to the Queene and 
to all the ladys of the Court, but very 
privattly. . . . Yet I was there from 
the beginning to the last amongst all the 
nobility and the beautys. I came there 
by the wheels of fortune. There was 
above 4 or 500 people at the doore, but 
none could gett in. They did begin to 
dance about eight of the clock att night. 
The Qiieene came half an houre after 
and went awaye at eleven. The rest did 
dance till between one and two. The 
Queen [did] dance all the while she 
was there with an extraordinary great 
modestye. They did dance altogether 
contrey dances, and didjumpe and leape 
as those creatures which live upon your 
mountaines. They were eleven or 
twelve ladys and as many courtiers. 



The Court of Charles II. 



147 



Mrs. Stuard was there, who was extra- 
ordinary mary. After dancing she did 
sing four or five French songs, as well 
as ever I heard any woman sing. 



6. Extracts from Pepys and Evelyn. 

Pepys. 

Jan. 39th, 1666. 

Mr. Evelyn and I into my Lord 
Brouncker's coach, and rode together, 
with excellent discourse till we come to 
Ciapham, talking of the vanity and 
vices of the Court, which makes it a 
most contemptible thing ; and, indeed, 
in all his discourse, I find him a most 
worthy person. 

April I ^th, 1666. 

(Lord's Day.) Walked into the 
Park, to the Queen's Chapel, and there 
heard a good deal of their mass, and 
some of their music, which is not so 
contemptible, I think, as our people 
would make it ; it pleasing me very 
well, and, indeed, better than the 
anthem I heard afterwards at White- 
hall, at my coming back. I stayed till 
the King went down to receive the sac- 
rament, and stood in his closet with a 
great many others, and there saw him 
receive it, which I never did see the 
manner of before. But I do see very 
little difference between the degree of 
the ceremonies used by our people in 
the administration thereof, and that in 
the Roman Church, saving that, me- 
thought, our chapel was not so fine. 

July 7th, 1666. 
Creed tells me he finds all things 
mighty dull at Court [after the Plague 
and Fire], and that they now begin to 
lie long in bed ; it being, as we suppose, 
not seemly for them to be found playing 
and gaming as they used to be ; nor 
that their minds are at ease enough to 
follow those sports, and yet not know- 
ing how to employ themselves ; though 



there be work enough for their thoughts 
and councils and pains, they keep long 
in bed. But he thinks with me, that 
there is nothing in the world can iielp 
us but the King's personal looking after 
his business and his officers, and that 
with that we may yet do well, but 
otherwise must be undone ; nobody at 
this day taking care of anything, nor 
hath anybody to call him to account 
for it. 

July 31st. 
The Court empty, the King being 
gone to Tunbridge, and the Duke of 
York a-hunting. I had some discourse 
with Povy, who is mightily discon- 
tented, I find, about his disappointments 
at Court ; and sa3'S, of all places, if 
there be hell, it is here; no faith, no 
truth, no love, nor any agreement 
betv^'een man and wife, nor friends. 
He would have spoke broader, but I 
put it off to another time ; and so parted. 

Sept. 36, 1666. 

. . . He [Mr. Evelyn] observes that 
none of the nobility come out of the 
country at all, to help the King, or com- 
fort him, or prevent commotions at this 
fire, but do as if the King were nobody, 
nor ne'er a priest comes to give the 
King and Court good counsel, or to 
comfort the poor people that suffer : 
but all is dead, nothing of good in any 
of their minds. He bemoans it, and 
says he fears more ruin hangs over our 
heads. 

Evelyji. 

Oct. 10, 1666. 

This day was order' d a generall fast 
thro' the Nation, to humble us on ye 
late dreadfull conflagration, added to 
the plague and war, the most dismall 
judgments that could be inflicted, but 
which indeed we highly deserv'd for 
our prodigious ingratitude, burning 
lusts, dissolute court, profane and 
abominable lives. 



148 



The Court of Charles II. 



Pepys. 

Oct. 15th, 1666. 
This day the King begins to put on 
his vest, and I did see several persons 
of the House of Lords and Commons 
too, great courtiers, who are in it ; 
being a long cassock close to the body 
of black cloth, and pinked with white 
silk under it, and a coat over it, and 
the legs ruffled with black riband like 
a pigeon's leg; and, upon the whole, 
I wish the King may keep it, for it is a 
very fine and handsome garment. 

Oct. 17th, 1666. 

The Court is all full of vests, only 

my Lord St. Albans not pinked, but 

plain black ; and they say the King 

says the pinking upon whites makes 

them look too much like magpies, and, 

therefore, hath bespoken one of plain 

velvet. 

Evelyn. 

Oct. iSth, 1666. 
To Court. It being ye first time his 
Majesty put himself solemnly into the 
Eastern fashion of vest, changeing 
doublet, stiff collar, bands and cloake, 
into a comely dress, after ye Persian 
mode, with girdle or straps, and shoe- 
strings or garters into bouckles, of 
which some were set with precious 
stones, resolving never to alter it, and 
to leave the French mode, which had 
had hitherto obtain' d to our great 
expence and reproch. Upon which 
divers courtiers and gentlemen gave his 
Majesty gold by way of wager that he 
would not persist in this resolution. 
[As he did not. — Ed.] 

Jan. iSth, 1666-7. 
I was present at a magnificent ball 
or masque in the theater at court, where 
their majesties and all the greate lords 
and ladies daunced, infinitely gallant, 
the men in their richly embroidered 
most becoming vests. 



April 23rd, 1667. 
... At ye banquet (of the Knights 
of the Gaiter) came in the Queene and 
stood by the King's left hand, but did 
not sit. Then was the banquetting 
stuff flung about the room profusely. 
... I now staled no longer than this 
sport began for feare of disorder. The 
cheere was extraordinary, each knight 
having 40 dishes to his messe, piled up 
5 or 6 high. The roome was hung 
with ye richest tapessrj'. 

June i6th, 1670. 
I went with some friends to ye Bear 
Garden, where was cock-fighting, dog- 
fighting, beare and bull-baiting, it 
being a famous day for all these butch- 
erly sports, or rather barbarous cruel- 
ties. The bulls did exceeding well, 
but the Irish wolfe-dog exceeded, which 
was a tall greyhound, a stately creature 
indeede, who beat a cruell mastiff. 
One of the bulls toss'd a dog full into 
a lady's lap, as she sate in one of ye 
boxes at a considerable height from 
the arena. Two poore dogs were 
kill'd, and so all ended with the ape 
on horseback, and I most heartily 
weary of the rude and dirty pastime, 
which I had not seene I think, in twenty 
yeares before. 



7. Extracts from the Rutland Cor- 
respondence. (In 1 2th Report of MS. 
Commission. Appendix, Part V.) 

Lady Mary Bei-tie to her niece., 
Katherine Noel., at Exton. 

November, 1670. 
I received yours, but haveing not yett 
been at Court cannolt give you a punc- 
tuall account of the fashions, but upon 
the Qiieene's Birthday most wore em- 
braudered bodys with plaine black skirts 
of Morella Mohair and Prunella and 
such stuffs, and the under pettycoatt 



The Court of Charles II. 



149 



very richly laced with two or three 
sorts of lace, so that 50 or 60 pounds 
but an ordinary price for a petty- 
cote. . . . 

Dec. ic, Westminster. 
I received yours and am very glad to 
heare you are so merry with the musicke 
and danceing.. I was at Courte the 
other night where I met withe the 
Dutchesse of Buckingham, who was 
very kind to mee and presented mee to 
kisse the Queene's hand. They weare 
their gownes as I writ to you before, 
but I thinke the fashions of their rib- 
bans and haire alters according to every 
bodys fancy, for some ware all small 
ribban, others brode ribbans, others 
broad and small mixed and all frowzes 
of their owen haire. . . . 

Jan. 3nd. 
. . . There is letely come out a new 
play writ by Mr. Dreyden who made 
the Indian Emferoi-. It is caled the 
Conquest of Grenada. My brother 
Norreys tooke a box and carryed my 
Lady Rochester and his mistresse and 
all us to. . . . 

Feb. 23rd. 
... I was on Munday at Court to 
see the grane ballett danced. It was so 
hard to get room that wee were forced 
to goe by four a clocke, though it did 
not begin till nine or ten. They were 
very richly dressed and danced very 
finely, and shifted their clothes three 
times. There was also fine musickes 
and excelent sing some new song made 
purpose for it. After the ballet was 
■over, several others danced, as the King, 
and Duke of Yorke, and Duke of 
Somerset, and Duke of Buckingham, 
And the Dutchesse of Cleveland was 
very fine in a riche petticoat and halfe 
shirte, and a short man's coat very 
richly laced, a perwig cravatt and a 
liat : her hat and maske was very rich." 



Sir Ed. Harley to Lady Harley. 

(In MS. Commission, 14th Report, 
Appendix.) 

March 1 1, 1 670-1 . 

. . . Sin every day grows high and 
impudent; as we have seen that God 
would not be worked by hypocrits, as 
certaynly he will not be defyed by pro- 
fane atheists. The Lord, I trust, will 
graciouslv provide a hiding place for 
his poor children. 



8. Extracts from Evelyn. 

Oct. 3ISt, 167I. 

Quitting Euston, I lodged this night 
at New- market, where I found ye jolly 
blades raceing, dauncing, feasting, and 
revelling, more resembling a luxurious 
and abandon' d rout, than a Christian 
Court. The Duke of Buckingham was 
now in mighty favour, and had with him 
that impudent woman the Countess of 
Shrewsbury, with his band of fidlers, 
etc. . . . 

March i3th, 167 1-3. 
The Treasurer of the Household, Sir 
Tho. Clifford, hinted to me as a confi- 
dent, that his Majesty would shut up 
the Exchequer., and accordingly his 
Majesty made use of infinite treasure 
there, to prepare for an intended rup- 
ture [with the Dutch] ; but, says he, it 
will soone be open again and every 
body satisfied; for this bold man, who 
had ben the sole adviser of the King to 
invade that sacred stock . . . was so 
over-confident of the successe of this 
unworthy designe against the Smyrna 
merchants, as to put his Majesty on an 
action which not onely lost the heaits 
of his subjects, and ruined many wid- 
dows and orphans whose stocks were 
lent him, but the reputation of his Ex- 
chequer forever, it being before in such 
credit, that he might have commanded 
halfe the wealth of the nation. 



ISO 



The Court of Charles II. 



The credit of this hank heing thus 
broken did exceedingly discontent the 
people, and never did liis Majesty's 
affairs prosper to any purpose after it, 
for as it did not supply the expence of 
the meditated war, so it mealted away, 
I know not how. To this succeeded 
the King's declaration for an universal 
tolle-ration ; Papists and swarms of 
sectaries now boldly shewing them- 
selves in their public meetings. 

Oct. 8th, 1672. 
I tooke leave of my Lady Sunder- 
land. . . . She made me stay dinner 
at Leicester House and afterwards sent 
for Richardson the famous fire-eater. 
He devour' d brimston on glowing 
coales before us, chewing and swal- 
lowing them ; he mealted a beere-glass 
and eate it quite up ; then taking a live 
coale on his tongue, he put on it a raw 
oyster, the coal was blown on with 
bellows till it flam'd and sparkl'd in 
his mouth, and so remain' d till the 
oyster gaped and was quite boil'd; 
then he mealted pitch and wax with 
sulphur, which he drank downe as it 
flamed ; I saw it flaming in his mouth 
a good while. ... 

March 29th, 1673. 
. . . At the sermon corai?i rege^ 
preached by Dr. Sparrow. ... I 
staled to see whether according to cos- 
tome the Duke of York received the 
communion with the King ; but he did 
not to the amazement of everybody. 
This being the second yeare he had 
forborne and put it off, and within a 
day of the Parliament sitting, who had 
lately made so severe an act against ye 
increase of Poperie, gave exceeding 
grief and scandal to the whole nation, 
that the heyre of it, and ye son of a 
martyr for ye Protestant religion, 
should apostatize. What the conse- 
quence of this will be, God onely 
knows, and wise men dread. 



Nov. 5, 1673. 
This night the youths of the Citty 
burnt the Pope in effigie, after they had 
made procession with it in great tri- 
umph, they being displeas'd at the 
Duke for altering his religion and 
marrying an Italian lady [Mary of 
Modena]. 

Nov. 15th, 1673. 
. . . Being her Majesty's birthday, 
the Court was exceeding splendid in 
clothes and jewels, to the height of 
excesse. 



9. Letters of Lady Cha worth to her 
brother. Lord Roos, at Belvoir Castle. 
(In 1 2th Report of MS. Commission, 
5th Appendix, p. 31.) 

Nov. 2nd, 1676. 
. . . Mighty bravery in clothes pre- 
paring for the Qiieen's birthday, es- 
peicially M'^ Phraser, whose gowne is 
ermine upon velvet imbroidered with 
gold and lined with cloth of gold ; 
'twill come to 300/., and frights Sir 
Carr Scroope, who is much in love 
with her, from marying her, saying his 
estate will scarce maintaine her in 
clothes. 

Nov. 9. 
Mr. Bernard Howard made one of 
the greatest and most absolute French 
feast that ever I saw last Tuesday att 
Somerset House, and but eleven of us 
att it ; and the clothes last night at the 
Qiieene's birth-night ball was infinite 
rich, espeicially M'^ Phraser, who put 
downe all for a gowne black velvet 
imbroydered with all sorts of slips 
inbost worke of gold and silver and 
peticote one broad ermine and gold 
lace all over, yet I doe not approve the 
fancy of either, though they say [it] cost 
Soo/. ; but her face and shape must be 
approved by everybody : the men also 
very rich. 



The Court of Charles II. 



151 



Nov. 23rd. 

For niewse, the King sup't two 
nights agoe with Mr. GrifHn, etc., and 
all the jockeys being invited to meet 
his Majestie : and there they have made 
four matches to be run at Newmarket. 
. . . M'^ Jennings and her daughter 
[later duchess of Marlborough. — Ed.], 
maid of honour to the Dutchesse, have 
had so great a falling out that they 
fought ; the young one complained to 
the Duchess that if her mother was not 
put out of St. James's, where she had 
lodgings to sanctuary her from debt, 
she would run away, so Sir Alleyn 
Epsley was sent to bid the mother 
remoove, who answered with all her 
heart she should never dispute the 
Duke and Dutchesses commands, but 
with the grace of God she would take 
her daughter away with her [intimating 
in very coarse terms what sort of a 
place she considered the court]. So, 
rather than part with her, the mother 
must stay and all breaches are made 
up againe. 

Dec. 13. 

. . . Here is no niewse but balls and 
plays and the King having a sledge after 
the Muscovite fashion that with a fine 
accoustred horse pulls him round his 
fine canalls of St. James Parke. 

Dec. 25. 
Lady Sussex is not yet gone. . . . 
She and Madam Mazarin have privately 
learnt to fence, and went down into St. 
James Parke the other day with drawne 
swords under theire night gownes, which 
they drew out and made severall fine 
passes with, to the admiration of severall 
men that was lookers on in the Parke. 
. . . The Dutchesse [of Yorke] is much 
delighted with making and throwing of 
snow-balls and pelted the Duke soundly 
with one the other day and ran away 
quick into her closet and he after her, 
but she durst not open the doore. She 



hath also great pleasure in one of those 
sledges which they call Trainias^ and 
is pulled up and downe the ponds in 
them every day, as also the King, 
which are counted dangerous things, 
and none can drive the horse which 
draws them about but the Duke of 
Monmouth, Mr. Griffin, and Mr. Godol- 
phin, and a fourth whose name I have 
forgot. . . . M'' Sarah Jennings hath 
got the better of her mother who is 
commanded to leave the Court and her 
daughter in itt, notwithstanding the 
mother's petition that she might have 
her girle with her, the girle saying she 
is a mad woman. . . . 

Jan. 19, 1676-7. 
Theire is two niewe plays which are 
much comended — the Siege of Jerusa- 
lem by the Emperour Vespasian, and 
his son Titus's love with Berenice; the 
epilogue is much praysed that tells tis 
not like to please this age to bring thein 
a story of Jerusalem who would more 
delight in one of Sodome and a vertu- 
ous woman which in this age they 
promise shan't be seene but on the stage. 

Edward Smith to Lord Roos. 

Feb. 8, 1676-7. 
. . . His Majesty, whom God pre- 
serve, went on Munday last to Windsor 
to see his workemen, and with a design 
to stay all the weeke there, but on 
Wednesday night some of his courtiers 
fell to their cups and drunke away all 
reason, at last they began to despise art 
to, and brake into Prince Rupert's 
Laboratory and dashed his stills and 
other chymicall instruments in pieces. 
His Majesty went to bed about i2 
aclock, but about 2 or 3 aclock one of 
Henry Killigrew's men was stabbed in 
the company in the next chamber to the 
King. They say he murdered himselfe 
amongst them because of some distast 
betwixt his master and him : how it 



152 



The Court of Charles II. 



■was God knowes : but the Duke i-an 
speedily to His Majesty' s bed and drew 
the curtaine, and said "Sir, will you 
lye in bed till you have your throat cut ? ' ' 
"whereupon His Majesty got up at three 
aclock in the night and came immedi- 
ately away to Whitehall. 

Lady Chazvort/i to Lord Roos. 

April II, 167S. 
. . . The quarrells of some ladies 
hath made great talke in the towne and 
much laughing. M'^ Baker first began 
with a bitter letter to my Lady Angle- 
sey, yet concluded, "a lover of her 
soule.' This highly incenced the lady, 
and M'^ Baker not forbearing her house 
upon itt, she threw some things att her 
to have her goe out of the rome. The 
other two ladies is Lady Mohun and 
M'^ Browne, the deare friends, but it is 
too long for any letter : but in short they 
were att cards att one M'^ Roberts's 
lodgings, and one M'^ Love being land- 
lady of the house an exchange woman, 
Lady Mohun' s pages spit in that M'^ 
Love's daughter's face, and so the 
mother would have turned him out of 
the house, but he ran up to his lady, and 
so the exchange woman followed him, 
and the quarrell began between her and 
the lady with ill-words and candlesticks ; 
and so the lady petitioned the House 
upon breach of privilege, and her father 
brought itt in, but M'^ Browne, M'= 
Roberts and her husband came in 
against Lady Mohun, and made her 
the provoker, so the House of Lords 
threw itt out, and left them to the law. 
. . . And it entertained the King 
mightily who was att the House, and 
desired that he might be judge whether 
the candlesticke had hurt my Lady 
Mohun' s knee. I wish it may be 
some entertainment to your melancholy 
spleen, which I suspect the chiefe fo- 
menter of all your diseases. 



Li X tracts from Evelyn. 

July 15th, 16S3. 

The public was now in greate con- 
sternation on the late plot and conspir- 
acy ; his Majestie very melancholy, and 
not stirring without double guards ; all 
the avenues and private dores about 
White-hall and the Park shut up, few 
admitted to waike in it. The Papists in 
the meane time very jocund. . . . 

The Turks were likewise in hostility 
against the German Emperor, almost 
masters of the Upper Hungary, and 
drawing towards Vienna. On the 
other side the French King (who 'tis 
believed brought in the infidels) dis- 
turbing his Spanish and Dutch neigh- 
bors, having swallow' d up almost all 
Flanders, pursuing his ambition of a 
fifth universal monaixh ; and all this 
blood and disorder in Christendom had 
evidently its rise from our defections at 
home, in a wanton peace, minding 
nothing but luxurie, ambition, and to 
procure money for our vices. To this 
add our irreligion and atheism, greate 
ingratitude, and selfe interest ; the 
apostacy of some, and the suffering the 
French to grow so greate, and the Dutch 
so weake. In a word, we were wanton , 
madd, and surfeiting with prosperity ; 
every inoment unsettling the old founda- 
tions, and never constant to anything. 
The Lord in mercy avert the sad omen, 
and that we do not provoke him till he 
beare it no longer ! 

July 35th, 16S3. 
I againe saw Prince George of Den- 
mark : he had the Danish countenance, 
blonde, of few words, spake French 
but ill, seem'd somewhat heavy, but 
reported to be valiant, and indeede he 
had bravely rescu'd and brought off his 
brother the King of Denmark in a 
battaile against the Swedes, when both 
these Kings were engag'd very smartly. 



The Court of Charles II. 



'53 



2Sth. 

He was married to the Lady Anne at 
White-hall. Her court and household 
to be modell'd as the Duke's, her father, 
had been and they to continue in 
England. 

Note of Lord Dartmouth to a Pas- 
sage in B^irnet. 
Prince George of Denmark was the 
most indolent of all mankind, had given 
great proofs of bravery in his ov^^n 
■country, where he was much beloved. 
King Charles II told my father he had 
tried him, drunk and sober, but " God's 
fish," there was nothing in him. His 
behaviour at the revolution [i6SS] 
shewed he could be made a tool of 
upon occasion ; but King William 
treated him with the utmost contempt. 
When Qiieen Anne came to the throne, 
she shewed him little respect, but 
■expected everybody else should give 
him more than was his due : but it 
was soon found out that his interpos- 
ing was a prejudice in obtaining 
favours at court. All foreign princes 
had him in very low esteem. . . . 
After thirty years living in England he 
died of eating and drinking, without 
any man's thinking himself obliged to 
him : but I have been told that he would 
sometimes do ill offices, though he 
never did a good one. 



II. Extract from Evelyn. 

Feb. 4th, 16S5. 

I went to London, hearing his Maj- 
esty had been the Monday before (Feb. 
2.) surpriz'd in his bed-chamber with an 
apoplectic fit, so that if. . . . Dr. King 
. . . had not been present to let him blood 
. . . his Majesty had certainly died 
that moment. . . . This rescued his 
Majesty for the instant, but it was only 
a short reprieve. He still complained 
. . . with sometimes epileptic symp- 
toms . . . for which he was cupp'd, let 



bloud in both jugulars, had both vomit 
and purges . . . which . . . relieved 
him. . . . They prescribed the famous 
Jesuits powder; but it made him 
worse, and some very able doctors who 
were present did not think it a fever, 
but the effect of his bleeding and other 
sharp operations us'd by them about 
his head. . . . Thursday night . . . 
I,hey drew 1 2 ounces inore of blood 
from him. 

Extracts from FoiiiitainhalV s 

Memoirs. 

(Edinborough, 1S37.) 

16S5. 

. . . His Qiiean, throw sickenesse 
not being able to come to him, sent to 
ask his pardon and how he was ; he 
answered, " ah, poor Lady, many a 
tyme have I wronged her, but shee 
never did me wrong." 



Letter of the French Envoy Bar- 
illon to Louis XIV. (In Dalrymple's 
Memoirs. London 1790. Vol. I. Ap- 
pendix, p. I ^2.) 

Feb. iS, 1685. 

... I was five hours in the King's 
anti-chamber. The Duke of York 
made me come into the bed-chamber 
several times, and spoke to me of what 
was passing without doors, and of the 
assurances given him from every quar- 
ter that all was very quiet in the town, 
and that he should be proclaimed King 
the moment the King his brother was 
dead. I went out for some time to go 
to the« Duchess of Portsmouth's apart- 
ment. I found her overwhelmed with 
grief. . . . She said to me, ''Monsieur 
the ambassador, I am going to tell you 
the greatest secret in the world, and my 
head would be in danger if it was 
known. The King of England at the 
bottom of his heart is a Catholic ; but 
he is surrounded with Protestant bishops, 
and nobody tells him his condition, or 
speaks to him of God : I can not with 
decency enter the room, besides that the 



154 



The Court of Charles II. 



Qiieen is almost constantly there ; the 
Duke of York thinks of his own affairs. 
. '. . Go and tell him I have conjured 
you to warn him to think of what can 
be done to save the King's soul. He 
commands the room and can turn out 
whom he will. . . . 

I returned instantly to find the Duke 
of York . . . and told him what the 
Duchess of Portsmouth said to me. He 
recovered himself as from a deep leth- 
argy, and said, " You are in the right : 
there is no time to lose. I will hazard 
all rather than not do my duty on this 
occasion." . . . 

We thought of various expedients. 
The Duke of York proposed that I 
should ask leave to speak to the King 
his brother, to tell him something in 
secret from your Majesty, and that 
everybody should go out. I offered to 
do so ; but represented to him, that be- 
sides the great rumour it would make, 
there was no likelihood of my being 
allowed to remain in private with the 
King of England and himself long 
enough for what we had to do. At 
last . . . without any further pre- 
caution, the Duke of York stooped 
down to the King his brother's ear, 
after having ordered that no one should 
approach. I was in the room, and 
more than 20 persons at the door, 
which was open. What the Duke of 
York said was not heard ; but the King 
of England said from time to time very 
loud, 2^es, %vith all my heart. He 
sometimes inade the Duke of York 
repeat what he said, because he did not 
easily hear him. This lasted near a 
quarter of an hour. The Duke of York 
again went out as if he had gone to 
the Qiieen, and said to me, " The King 
has consented that I should bring a 
priest to him ; but I dare not bring any 
of the Duchess's: They are too well 
known: Send and find one quickly." 
. . . The Earl of Castlemethor went 



where the Qiieen' s priests were, and 
found amongst them one Hudelston a 
Scotchman, who saved the King of 
England after the battle of Worcester, 
and who by act of Parliament had been 
excepted from all the laws made against 
the catholics and against the priests. 
They put a wig and gown on him to 
disguise him, and the Earl of Castle- 
methor conducted him to the door of an 
apartment that joined by a small step to 
the King's chamber. The Duke of 
York . . . sent Chiffins to receive and 
bring in Mr. Hudelston : Soon after,, 
he said aloud, "The King wills that 
everybody should retire, except the 
Earles of Bath and Feversham : ' ' the 
first was lord of the bed-chamber, and 
the other was in waiting. The physi- 
cians went into a closet, the door of 
which was immediately shut, and 
Chiffins brought Mr. Hudelston in. 
The Duke of York, in presenting him, 
said, " Sire, here is a man who saved 
your life, and is now come to save your 
soul." The King answered, "He is 
welcome." He afterwards confessed 
himself with great sentiments of devo- 
tion and repentance. . . . He then 
received absolution, the coinmunion, 
and even the extreme unction : All this- 
lasted about three quarters of an hour. 
In the anti-chamber, every one looked 
at another ; but nobody said anything- 
but by their eyes and in whispers. The 
presence of Lord Bath and Lord Fever- 
sham, who are Protestants, has satisfied 
the bishops a little; but the Queen's 
women, and the other priests, saw so 
much going and coming, that I do not 
think the secret can be long kept. . . . 

Extract from Burnet. 

. . . The King suffered much in- 
wardly, and said, he was burnt up 
within ; of which he complained often, 
but with great decency. He said once, 
he hoped he should climb up to heaven's- 



The Court of Charles II. 



155 



gates, which was the only word savour- 
ing of religion that he was heard to 
speak. He gathered all his strength to 
speak his last words to the Duke. . . . 
He recommended lad)' Portsmouth over 
and over again to him . . . and be- 
sought the duke, in as melting words 
as he could fetch out, to be very kind 
to her and to her son. He recom- 
mended his other children to him : and 
concluded, Let not poor Nelly starve; 
that was Mrs. Gvvynn. But he said 
nothing of the queen. 

. . . He continued in the agony till 
Friday at eleven o'clock, being the 
sixth of February 16S4-5 ; and then 
died in the 54th year of his age. . . . 
There were many very apparent suspi- 
cions of his being poisoned. . . , Both 
Lower and Needham two famous physi- 
cians, told me, they plainly discerned 
two or three blue spots on the outside 
of the stomach. Needham called twice 
to have it opened : but the surgeons 
seemed not to hear him. . . . They 
were diverted to look to somewhat else : 
and when they returned to look upon 
the stomach, it was carried away : so 
that it was never viewed. . . . The 
King's body was indecently neglected. 
Some parts of his inwards, and some 
pieces of the iat, were left in the water 
in which they were washed : all which 
were so carelessly looked after, that the 
water being poured out at a scullery 
hole that went to a drain, in the mouth 
of which a grate lay, these were seen 
lying on the grate many days after. His 
funeral was very miean. He did not 
lie in state : no mournings were given : 
and the expence of it was not equal to 
what an ordinary nobleman's funeral 
will rise to. . . . 

Extract from jpoiintain/iaW s 
Memoirs. 

It was alledged to have been the 
King's own desire to be so interred : 



others said, it was unfit to make a pub- 
lic solemnity, unlesse it had exceeded 
in splendor Cromwell's funeral, which 
would have been very expensive. 
These restlesse and lying phanatiques 
whispered, they did not love his sudden 
buriall, as if it had looked like foul 
play. 

12. Extracts froin Evelyn. 

. . . He was a Prince of many vir- 
tues, and many great imperfections ; 
debonaire, easy of accesse, not bloudy 
nor cruel ; his countenance fierce, his 
voice greate, proper of person, every 
motion became him ; a lover of the 
sea, and skilfuU in shipping ; not affect- 
ing other studies, yet he had a labora- 
tory, and knew of many empyrical 
medicines, and the easier mechanical 
mathematics; he lov'd planting and 
building, and brought in a politer way 
of living, which pass'd to luxury and 
intolerable expence. He had a partic- 
ular talent in telling a story, and face- 
tious passages, of which he had innu- 
merable ; this made some buffoons and 
vitious wretches too presumptuous and 
familiar, not worthy the favor they 
abus'd. . . . The history of his reign 
will certainely be the most \vonderfull 
for the variety of matter and accidents, 
above any extant in former ages : the 
sad tragical death of his father, his 
banishment and hardships, his miracu- 
lous restauration, conspiracies against 
him, parliaments, wars, plagues, fires, 
comets, revolutions abroad happening 
in his time, with a thousand other par- 
ticulars. ... I can never forget the 
inexpressible luxury and prophaneness, 
gaming and all dissoluteness, and as it 
were total forgetfuUness of God (it 
being Sunday evening) which this day 
se'ennight I was witnesse of, the King 
sitting and toying with. . . . Ports- 
mouth, Cleaveland, and Mazarine, etc., 
a French boy singing love-songs, in 



156 



The Court of Charles 11. 



that glorious gallery, whilst about 20 
of the greate courtiers and other disso- 
lute parsons were at bassett round a 
large table, a bank of at least 2000 in 
gold before them, upon which two 
gentlemen who were with me made re- 
flexions with astonishment. Six days 
after was all in the dust. It was en- 
joyned that those who put on mourn- 
ing should wear it as for a father, in 
ye most solemn manner. 

Extracts from Fountainhall. 

He was certainly a prince indued 
with many Royall qualities, and of 
whom the Divine providence had taken 
a speciall care by preserving him after 
Worcester fight in the oak, and bring- 
ing him miraculously home without a 
drop of blood shed ; so that the Em- 
peror of the Turks said, if he were to 
change his religion, he would choise to 
worship before any, the King of Brit- 
tain's God, who had done such wonder- 
full things for him. . . . He had a 
naturall mildnesse and command over 
his anger, which never tralisported him 
beyond ane innocent puff and spitting, 
and was soon over, and yet commanded 
more deference from his peeple then if 
he had expressed it more severely, so 
great respect had all to him. . , . 

His firmenesse in religion was evi- 
dent ( !) ; for in his banishment he had 
great invitations and offers of help to 
restore him to his crown if he would 
turne Papist, but he alwayes refused it. 



13. Extracts from Welwood's Diary. 
(Sixth Edition. London, 1718. Page 
128.) 

. . . Thus reigned, and thus dy'd 
King Charles II., a Prince endowed 
with all the qualities that might justly 
have rendered him the delight of 
mankind and entitled him to the char- 
acter of one of the greatest genius's that 
ever sat upon a throne, if he had not 



sullied those excellent parts with the 
soft pleasures of ease. . . . His per- 
son was tall and well made, his consti- 
tution was vigorous and healthy ; and 
it is hard to determine, whether he took 
more pains to preserve it by diet and 
exercise, or to impair it by excess in his 
pleasures. . . . His face was com- 
posed of harsh features, difficult to be 
trac'd with the pencil, yet in the main 
it was agreeable ; and he had a noble, 
majestic mien. In contradiction to all 
the received rules of physiognomy, he 
was merciful, good natured, and in the 
last 24 years of his life, fortunate, if 
to succeed in most of his designs may 
be called so. . . . He had read but 
little, yet had a good taste of learn- 
ing, and would reason nicely upon 
most sciences. The mechanicks were 
one of his peculiar talents, especially 
the art of building and working of 
ships ; which nobody understood better, 
nor, if he had liv'd, would have 
carried it farther. He had a strong, 
laconick way of expression, and a gen- 
teel, easy and polite way of writing : 
and when he had a mind to lay aside 
the King, which he often did in select 
companies of his own, there were a 
thousand irresistible charms in his con- 
versation. . . . No age produced a 
greater master in the art of dissimu- 
lation, and yet no man was less upon 
his guard, or sooner deceived in the 
sincerity of others. . . . He . . . had 
acquired so great an ascendant over the 
affections of his people, in spite of all 
the unhappy measures he had taken, 
that it may in some sense be said, he 
died opportunely for England ; since if 
he had liv'd, it's probable we might in 
compliance with him have compli- 
mented ourselves out of all the remains 
of our liberty, if he had had but a 
mind to be master of them ; which it's 
but charity to believe he had not, at 
least immediately before his death. 



The Court of Charles II, 



157 



There is one thing more that may 
help to make up the character of this 
prince, that in the lines and shape of 
his face (all but the teeth) he had a 
great resemblance of the ancient bus- 
toes and statues we have of the 
Emperor Tiberius. . . . 

Extracts from Evelyn. 

Oct. 3nd, 16S5. 
Having a letter sent me by Mr. 
Pepys with this expression at the foote 
of it, "I have something to shew you 
that I may not have another time," 
and that I would not fail to dine with 
him, I accordingly went. After din- 
ner he . . . told us that being lately 
alone with his Majest}' [T^s. II.] . . . 
[the] familiar discourse encouraged 
Mr. Pepys to beg of his Majesty, if 
he might ask it without offence . . . 
whether his late Majesty had been 
reconcil'd to ye church of Rome. . . . 
The King ingenuously told him that he 
both was and died a Roman Catholic : 
... he bid him follow him into his 
closet, where opening a cabinet, he 
shew'd him two papers, containing 
about a quarter of a sheete, on both 
sides written, in the late King's owne 
hand, several] arguments opposite to 
the doctrine of the Church of England, 
charging her with heresy, novelty and 
ye fanaticism of other Protestants, the 
chief whereof was, I remember, our 
refusing to acknowledge the primacy 
and infallibility of the Church of Rome 
. . . how unlikely our Saviour would 
leave his church without a visible head 
and guide to resort to, during his 



absence. . . . When his Majesty had 
shewn him these originals, he was 
pleas' d to lend him the copies of these 
two papers, attested at the bottome in 4 
or 5 lines, under his owne hand. 
These were the papers I saw and read. 
This nice and curious passage I thought 
fit to set downe. ... I was heartily 
sorry to see all this, tho' it was no other 
than was to be suspected. . . . The 
emissaries and instruments of the Church 
of Rome will never rest till they have 
crush' d the Church of England. ... I 
do exceedingly prefer his [present] 
Majesty's free and ingenuous profes- 
sion of what his own religion is. . . . 

May 36th, 1703. 
This day died Mr. Sam. Pepys, a 
very worthy, industrious and curious 
person. . . . He lived at Clapham 
with his partner Mr. Hewer, formerly 
his clerk, in a very noble house and 
sweete place, where he enjoyed the 
fruite of his labours in greate pros- 
perity. He was universally belov'd, 
hospitable, genei'ous, learned in many 
things, skill' d in music, a very greate 
cherisher of learned men of whom 
he had the conversation. His library 
and collection of other curiosities 
were of the most considerable, the 
models of ships especiall}'. . . . Mr. 
Pepys had been for neere 40 years so 
inuch my particular friend, that Mr. 
Jackson sent me compleat mourning, 
desiring me to be one to hold up the 
pall at his magnificent obsequies, but 
my indisposition hindered me from 
doing him this last office. 



158 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 



GROUP XVIII. 



THE REBELLION OF ARGYLE AND MONMOUTH, 1 685 A.D. 



I. Letters of the Duke of York 
(later James II.) to his son-hi-law 
William of Orange. (In Hist. MSS. 
Commission, Report 15, Appendix 5, 
p. 129.) 

May 1 1, 1679. 
. . . All things tend towards the 
lessning of the King's authority, and 
the new moddell things are put into 
is the very same that it was in the tyme 
of the Commonwealth. . . . 

May 14, Brussels. 
. . . You see how violently my 
enemys attaque me, and that Wednes- 
day last was the day that both Houses 
were to take into consideration my 
affairs. What the issue on't will be 
I expect to here this night, or to-inor- 
row, and can not now but looke on 
the monarky ist self (sic) in great 
danger as well as his Majesty's person, 
and that not from Papists, but from 
the Commonwealth party, and some 
of those who were latly brought into 
the Councell that gouverne the Duke 
of Monmouth, and who make a prop- 
erty of him to ruine our family, and 
things go on so fast and so violently, 
and there are so very few left about 
his Majesty that have either will or 
courage to give good advice to him, 
that I tremble to think what will 
happen, for if his Majesty and the 
House of Lords stick to me, then one 
may expect great disorders — nay, a 
rebellion. If his Majesty and thay 
shall consent to what the Commons 
may do against me, I shall then look 
on his Majesty as lesse then a Duke of 
Venice, and the monarky and our 
family absolutely ruin'd and given 
up. . . . 



May 17. 
... I am informed by my letters 
that nothing will satisfy the Presbite- 
rians, but the destroying of the mon- 
arky, and the setting up of a Common- 
wealth, to which purpose they flatter 
the Duke of Monmouth, as the only 
way to bring to passe their ends, and 
to destroy our family ; and he is so 
indiscret as to give in to it, and to 
thinke he can find his account in it ; 
and as I told you in my last I appre- 
hend very ixiuch for his Majesty's per- 
sone, froin those kind of people, and 
I can hardly see how he can almost 
gett out of the ill condition he is in. . . . 

May 39, Brussels. 
. . . You know before this what 
past on Sonday was sennight in the 
House of Commons [a bill to exclude 
him from the throne. — Ed.] ; it was 
the Presbiterians and the Duke of Mon- 
mouth's friends carried it, and were 
most violent against me, and now it is 
plain that these first, I meane the Pres- 
biterians, designe nothing lesse than the 
ruine of the inonarky and our family. 
. . . His Majesty appears very reso- 
lut for ine, and exclaims as I can 
desire at what has past in the House 
of Commons, and is very much unsat- 
isfyed with the Duke of Monmouth, 
and uses all his endeavors to hinder 
the bill's passing in the House of 
Commons. I hope this vote of theirs 
will do there worke for them, for 
they that pretend to lay aside one 
for his religion, may as well lay aside 
another for some fancy or other, but 
I hope his Majesty will take courage 
and at last be a king. . , . 



Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 159 



June I. 

. . . Unlesse something very vigor- 
ovis be done within a very fewe days, 
the monarky is gone. 

June Sth. 

I know that he [Charles] is very 
sensible that if he parts with any more 
of his power, that he is gone. He has 
yett the fleett, the garrisons, his gards, 
Irland and Scotland, firme to him, so 
that if he will yett stand by himself he 
may yett be a king. . . . 

July 3rd. 

... As for the affairs in Scotland, 
that rebellious cru that is up in arms 
will, I believe, be sone dispersed, they 
having no considerable men amongst 
them, but I thinke v^-hat may follow 
upon the Duke of Monmouth's going 
downe thether may be of ill conse- 
quence. . . . 

July 6th. 

... I am not all of your mind as 
to what concerns the meetting of the 
Parliament, for I can hope for no good 
from it, but on the contrary all the ill 
imaginable, and not only to me, but 
to his Majesty and our whole famil}-, 
as may apeare by the bill that was read 
in the House of Commons against me, 
which w^as against law, and destroys 
the very being of the monarky, which, 
I thank God, yett has had no depend - 
ancy on Parliaments nor on nothing 
but God alone, nor ever can and be 
a monarky ; and I hope his Majesty 
will be of this mind and never lett this 
House of Commons sitt againe. If he 
does he is ruined forever. 

July 26. 
... I believe you have heard, as 
well as I, that his Majesty has disolved 
this Parliament and called another to 
meette in October. I am very glad he 
has done it. ... I hope it will teach 
the next better manners, but in case 
they should follow the foottsteps of 



that which is now broken, I hope they 
will be served after the same manner. 
... I am not for their using him so 
insolently as this last did, nor for their 
meddling with the succession. 



2. Letter of Monmouth to the King. 
(After the discovery of the Rye House 
Plot.) (In Roberts' Monmouth, p. 

I57-) 

Nov. 15, 16S3. 
You must allow me, sir, still to im- 
portune you, not without hopes of pre- 
vailing at last upon your generosity, so 
as it may get the better of your anger 
to me. I am half distracted, sir, with 
the thoughts of having offended you, 
and the torment it gives me is perhaps 
greater than your forgiving nature would 
know how to inflict upon the most 
criminal offenders. The character I lie 
under is too heavy for me to bear, — even 
death itself would be a relief to me 
could I have it without the aggravation 
of leaving the woidd under your dis- 
pleasure. I must therefore throw my- 
self upon your compassion, which, 
being a virtue so agreeable to your 
nature, I hope your child, sir, will not 
be an unfortunate instance of your deny- 
ing it when 'tis implored. I confess, 
sir, I have been in fault, misled, and 
insensibly engaged in things of which 
the consequence was not enough under- 
stood by me ; yet I can say I never had 
a criminal thought towards your Maj- 
esty. Not pretending by that to insist 
upon an absolute justification of my- 
self, your Majesty will consider, that 
whilst I was under the apprehension of 
great anger and violence against me, it 
might easily corrupt my judgment, and 
by seeing things in a wrong light, 
betray me into very fatal mistakes : but 
now that I have had time to recollect 
myself, everything like a fault towards 
your Majesty appeareth to me in such a 
reproaching, terrifying shape, that I 



i6o Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 



have a remorse for it, which, could it 
be seen, I assure myself it would move 
yourcoinpassion to me. I humbly beg, 
sir, to be admitted to your feet, and to 
be disposed of as j'ou direct, not only 
now, but for the remainder of my life : 
and though my resignation is too full 
to admit any reserve, your Majesty will 
permit me to offer to you whether you 
will let pass anything as a penalty upon 
me which may lay a stain upon my 
innocent children? whether you will 
make me undergo the ignominy of a 
trial before you will give me your par- 
don? and of what use or satisfaction 
can it be to you to forgive me, and yet 
give me the cruel punishment of hear- 
ing myself arraigned for treason against 
such a king and such a father ? . . . 
Neither do I imagine to receive your 
pardon any otherwise than by the inter- 
cession of the Duke, whom I acknowl- 
edge to have offended, and am prepared 
to submit myself in the humblest man- 
ner ; and therefore beg your Majesty 
would dii-ect how I am to apply myself 
to him. . . . Dear sir, be pleased to 
revive, by a kind answer, the most 
miserable, disconsolate creature now 

living. 

Monmouth. 

3. Letters of James, as Duke of 
York, to the Marquis of Qiieensberry. 
(In 15th Report, 8th Appendix, of 
Historical Manuscripts Commission. 
London, 1897.) 

London, Nov. 24th, 1683. 
. . . As I had written thus far, I 
was called for to attend his Majesty 
downe to the Secretarys where the 
Duke of Monmouth was come to sur- 
render himself. He desired to speake 
to his Majesty and myself alone. He 
asked the King's pardon as became him, 
confest himself guilty of the plot in 
generall, and owned all but the know- 
ing of the designed asSasination ; asked 
me pardon also, and owned his having 



been faulty to me, and made all the 
professions man could make. He is 
now in the custody of a sargent at 
arms ; and to-morrow morning his 
Majesty has apointed a meetting to con- 
sider what to do with him. I have not 
tyme to say any more. 

Dec. I, 1683. 
You cannot imagin what a noise and 
fermentation this affaire of the Duke of 
Monmouth has made, and how it has 
encouraged and revived the Whiggs 
and troubled the Torys ; the former of 
which according to their wonted cous- 
toume of lying for the good of the 
cause, have done and do it most impu- 
dently now upon this subject, and re- 
port every where the Duke of Mon- 
mouth has not owned the Plot, and that 
what was in the Monday's Gazette was 
false. What incouragement he has 
given them to talke so, I will not yett 
take upon me to say, but by my next I 
may ; and shall now only say I hope 
good use will be made of the extrava- 
gance of that rebellious crue. . . . 

Dec. 6th. 
... I see you were all of you sur- 
prised with the newse of the Duke of 
Monmouth being at court : at which I 
do not wonder at, since here it had the 
same effect, and upon it the Whiggs 
are growne very insolent, and the more 
since they see he, the Duke of Mon- 
mouth, has not behaved himself as he 
aught, and not owned his knowledg of 
the conspiracy as he promised his Maj- 
esty to do. But tho this has done some 
harme at first, yett now that Algernon 
Sidney is to be beheadded tomorrow, 
and some other things will be done, 
they will not be so high ; and the Duke 
of Monmouth will only have done him- 
selfe harme by his behavior, and will 
satisfy the world he has not deserved 
such favor from the King as he has 
had. . . o 



Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth i6i 



Dec. 8, 16S3. 

The Duke of JNJonmouth's being 
banished yesterday the court, will, I 
beleve, be no iesse surprising to you 
then his coming to it was; and tho 
he has gained his point in getting his 
pardon and keeping his credit with his 
party, yett I am confident it will have 
no further ill effect, and will have this 
good one, of taking away that tender- 
nesse which moved his Majesty to do 
what he did in his favor : for now, he, 
the Duke of Monmouth has satisfyed 
the world he can never be trusted, and 
was never a true penitent ; for he would 
not owne under his hand what he sayd 
to the King and myself, when he saw 
us first, and told some of his dependers 
that what had been put in the Gazette 
was not true; which so incensed the 
King as obliged him to send him out of 
court. But of this no more at present. 
Yesterday Algernon Sidney was be- 
headed ; he died stoutly and like a trvie 
republican. I have not time to say 
more. 

Dec. 30. 

. . . Algernon Sidney's speech is 
come out in print, and his tryal will I 
beleve be out this weeke ; by both 
which you will see what a fine prince- 
peld man he was, and of the same 
trampe are all those the Duke of Mon- 
mouth was to have headed ; and I 
thinke, 'twas a great mercy he discov- 
ered himself so sone not to be a true 
penitent. . . . 



4. Extracts from Reresby's Memoirs, 
p. 93. 

16S5. Feb. 9. 

I [as governor of York] ordered the 
mail to be brought unopened to my 
house, so that no letters could be dis- 
persed till I knew the true state of the 
King. The letters came not in till four 
in the morning, and then they gave me 
an account of my gracious and great 



master's departure out of this world 
upon the 7th, at night. I was up ex- 
pecting the post when it arrived and 
suffered no letters to go out till I had 
been with the Lord Mayor and the high 
sheriff, and had delivered their letters 
only to themselves, by which they had 
order, and myself also, from the Privy 
Council and the Secretary of State, to 
proceed immediately to proclaim the 
King, James the Second. So soon as 
we had prepared all things necessary 
for this ceremony, which was done 
before- day, I gave leave for the dis- 
persing of the several letters according 
to their directions. . . . 

It was a strange effect of power from 
above, that so strong a party as had not 
long before appeared in Parliament to 
exclude the Duke of York from the 
crown of his ancestors should submit to 
his now coming to it with so great 
deference. . . . That which in a great 
measure did quiet the minds and appre- 
hensions of the people was the declara- 
tion made by King James to the Privy 
Council immediately after the breath 
was out of the body of his brother, that 
he would defend the government of 
England, both in Church and State, as 
by law established, that he would fol- 
low the steps of the late King in kind- 
ness and lenity towards his people ; and 
that as he would defend the just rights 
and prerogatives of the crown, so he 
would invade no man's property. 



5. A letter, writer unknown, to 
the Rev. Francis Roper. (In Ellis, 
Original Letters. First Series, Vol. 
III. p. 333-) 

. . . About 4 o'clock King James 
was proclaimed with the usual solem- 
nity and with great acclamations, 
together with a decent concern for the 
loss of so good a Prince. All things 
were managed with great order and 
quiett ; and his Maj'tie, at night, in 



1 62 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 



Council, made a very gracious decla- 
ration (which, I suppose, will be in 
print) wherein he promis'd solemnly 
to tread exactly in his brother's steps, 
both as to money and to governing ac- 
cording to law ; and particularly that 
he would maintain the Church as now 
by law establish' d. The same deck- 
ration he made to my Lord in private, 
with solemn protestations : and 'tis his 
constant discourse, that he will not in 
the least disturb the established govern- 
ment of the Church, either by tolera- 
tion, or any other way whatever. 

This day the Archbishop and Bishops 
waited on his Majestie and desired pri- 
vate audience ; and in the Closett the 
Archbishop made a very eloquent 
speech, by way of thanks, in the name 
of the whole Clergy, for the last night's 
declaration, as what prevented what 
otherwise they must have made their 
earnest prayer and suit to him, to pat- 
ronize the Church, as his royall brother 
of blessed memory had all along done : 
giving him all assurances of loyalty in 
the Clergy as what he might depend 
upon, as it is both the doctrine and 
practice of our Church, beyond any 
Church in the World. His Majestie 
again repeated what he had before de- 
clar'd, and said moreover, he would 
never give any sort of countenance to 
Dissenters, knowing that it must needs 
be faction and not religion, if men 
could not bee content to meet five be- 
sides their own familie, which the Law 
dispenses with. 

Thus to make amends for our great 
loss, wee are much comforted with the 
hopes we have of our Church continu- 
ing in its former flourishing estate. 
His Majestie has never yet been known 
to bee worse than his word; and 'tis 
to be hop'd he will not bee, in so often 
repeated promises. God continue him 



in his good resolutions, and make us 
all live peaceably and happily under 
him, and that his reign may bee al- 
wayes answerable to this auspicious 
beginning. I am 

Sir, your . . . 

Extract from Fountai7iJiall. 

On the 33 of Aprill, being St 
George's day, the King and Quean 
ware crouned at Westminster. . . . 
Their ware scattered amongst the pee- 
ple about 500/. stei ling's worth of 
coronation inedalls, made of purpose, 
with sundry embleins, one of ane eagle 
trying hir young ones by the sun etc. 
It is very far short of the splendor of 
his Brother's coronation in 1660. . . . 
It is like it was to shun expence to 
himselfe and the nobility, whose for- 
tunes are low. . . . By ane act, the 
King declared that the Qiiean, on hir 
coronation day, would release all pris- 
oners for debts within £5 sterling, by 
paying them, wheirby So were liberal 
in Newgate. Shee was not crouned 
with the imperiall croun of the king- 
dome of England, but by a golden 
croun, made of purpose, worth 300000/. 
sterling ; the Jewells shee had on hir 
ware reckoned worth a million, which 
made her shine like ane angell. All 
the peeresses ware richly attired, and 
with ther coronets on their heads. . . . 

At the coronation, the Te Deum and 
Veni Creator were sung. . . . Among 
other verses made on this coronation 
Elcana Setle, once the Whigs' poet, 
now fallen of, made a heroick poem, 
wher he brings in Shaftsburry, Essex, 
and Russell, (whom he calls G. Bur- 
net's reforming pupill,) gnashing their 
teeth and shaking their snakes in hell, 
at the news of the Duke of Vork's cor- 
onation as king, and calls Alonmouth 
that skulking, litle, wou'd-be-king. . . , 




^rr////{)u, ((:''. 0- ^^//Ar, ^(r/AC /y^///^ y^r.s:^f//'''^^( 



y// K Y 7/ / , V / '////{///. ' 



/:/: 






Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 163 



6. Extract from Bishop Burnet's 
History of his own Times. (Oxford, 
1S52, p. 34.) 

I must now say something concern- 
ing myself. At this time [accession of 
James II. 16S5] I went out of England. 
Upon King Charles's death, I had 
desired leave to come and pay my duty 
to the King by the marquis of Halifax. 
The King would not see me. So, 
since I was at that time in no sort of 
employment, not so much as allowed 
to preach anywhere, I resolved to go 
abroad. . . . The King approved of 
this, and consented to m^' going : but 
still refused to see me. So I was to go 
bej'ond sea, as to a voluntary exile. 
This gave me great credit with all the 
malecontents : and I made the best use 
of it I could. . . . Fletcher, a Scotch 
gentleman of great parts, and many 
virtues, but a most violent republican, 
and extravagantly passionate, did not 
like Argile's scheme [for raising a re- 
bellion in Scotland] : so he resolved to 
run fortunes with the duke of Mon- 
mouth. He told me, that all the 
English among them were still press- 
ing the duke of Monmouth to venture. 
They said, all the west of England 
would come about him, as soon as he 
appeared, as they had done five or six 
years ago. . . . This appeared a mad 
and desperate undertaking to the duke 
of Monmouth himself. He knew what 
a weak body a rabble was, and how 
unable to deal with troops long trained. 
Fletcher . . . said to me, that the 
duke of Monmouth was pushed on to 
it against his own sense and reason : 
but he could not refuse to hazard his 
person, when others were so forward. 
Lord Grey said, that Henry the seventh 
landed with a smaller number, and suc- 
ceeded. Fletcher answered, he was 
sure of several of the nobility, who 
were little princes in those days. . . . 
The night I left London, the Earl of 



Arran came to me, and told me, the 
King had an advertisement of it [Mon- 
mouth's plot] that very day. I saw it 
was fit for me to make haste : other- 
wise I should have been seized on, if it 
had been only to put the affront on me, 
of being suspected of holding corres- 
pondence with traitors. 

Argile had a very prosperous voyage. 
... At his landing he found, that the 
early notice the council had of his 
designs had spoiled his whole scheme. 
. . . Yet he got above 2^00 men to 
come to him. . . . But he lingered too 
long, hoping still to have brought more 
of his Highlanders together, . . . He 
had left his arms in a castle, with such 
a guard as he could spare ; but they 
were routed by a party of the King's 
forces. And with this he lost both 
heart and hope. ... He died pitied 
by all. His death being pursuant to 
the sentence passed three years be- 
fore, was looked on as no better than 
murder. 



7. Extract from Fountainhall's Me- 
moirs. (Edinburgh, 1S37, p. iSc;.) 

Argile was brought from Glasgow to 
Edinburgh, prisoner, on the 20th of 
June. ... At first our rulers ware so 
irritate, that they resolved to put all the 
marks of contumely on him they could ; 
such as, a cart was provided at the 
Watergate, with a chair in it to bind 
him on, and so hurdle him up the way, 
the hangman leading him, or else to set 
him on a coall horse, also ready ther ; 
for it was reported that in 1650, when 
the Marquis of Montrose was brought 
up prisoner from the Watergate in a 
cart, this Argile was feeding his eyes 
with the sight in the Lady Murrayes 
balcony, in the Canongate, with his 
daughter, his lady, to whom he was 
new married, and that he was seen 
playing and smiling with her. . . . 



164 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 



The dulnesse and sillinesse of the 
manner of his taking is very od ; Provi- 
dence confounding our common opinion 
of things : every one reputed Argile 
waliant and witty, and Sir John Coch- 
rane neither, and yet Argile sneaks 
away from the hazard, and Sir John 
fights stoutly like a man ; only, the 
greatest coward when straitned (like a 
cat pershued in a cupboard) will fight 
desperately enough. . . . 

But this was yet more surprising and 
unprobable [than the case of Pyrrhus, 
which he has cited at some length] 
that the generall of ane army should be 
apprehended by country peeple, he 
stragling and stealing away before the 
fight ; and every on thought him so gal- 
lant and generous that, rather than be 
so tane and brought to a scaffold, he 
would much inore choise to fight and to 
be killed on the field, as Rumbold 
answered, when he was bid render 
himselfe " That he came there to fight 
for death, not for life." Argile had 
miserably deceaved both himselfe and 
those he had persuaded to joyne with 
him: for, i. The kingdome was not 
disposed to ryse so numerously as he 
expected ; 2. Monmouth, partly throw 
sicknesse, and partly by unreadinesse, 
(tho it was concerted and agreed betuen 
them in Holland, that he should follow 
him, so that both their invasions should 
be at once,) was so long of landing in 
England. . . . 

O the ludibrium of humane fortune ! 
Argile in pomp and glory carried our 
imperiall croun before this King when 
Duke of York in his Parliament 16S1 ; 
and now, in 4 years tyme, he is igno- 
miniously led up that same very street 
by the hangman. 

It was long debated at Privy Coun- 
sell, whither he should be hanged or 
headed, and the last carried it. . . . 
Our old Scots way of quartering, was 



only the cutting of the legs and the 
armes, (as was done with the great 
Montrose,) but did not divide the body, 
which severe practise we have only of 
late, since Rathilet's case, borrowed 
from the customes of England, whom 
we doe not imitate in manie better 
things. . . . 

And thus was Argile headed on the 
30 of June 1685, as his father had been 
in 1 66 1. He had all the civility imag- 
inable put upon him ; he was allowed 
8 freinds to be in inourning with him 
on the scaffold, ... he came in coach 
to the toune Counsell, and from that 
on foot to the scaffold with his hat on. 
. . . He was somewhat appaled at the 
sight of the Maiden [the block.'], 
(present death will danton the most 
resolute courage,) therfor he caused 
bind the napkin upon his face ere he 
approached, and then was led to it. 
His body, after the separation of his 
head, by the great commotion and agi- 
tation of the animall and vitall spirits, 
started upright to his feet till it was 
held doune, and the blood from the 
jugular weins of the neck sprung most 
briskly like a cascade or jette d'eau. 
Thus fell that tall and mighty cedar in 
our Lebanon, the last of ane ancient 
and honorable family. 

Burnet. 

. . . As soon as lord Argile sailed 
for Scotland he [Monmouth] set about 
his design with as much haste as was 
possible. Arms were brought, and a 
ship was freighted for Bilbao in Spain. 
The Duke of Monmouth pawned all 
his jewels : but these could not raise 
much : and no money was sent him out 
of England. So he was hurried into 
an ill designed invasion. The whole 
company consisted but of eighty- two 
persons. They wei-e all faithful to one 
another. ... 



Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 165 



8. Letter of the Mayor of Lyme to 
James IL (In Roberts' Monmouth, 
Vol. L p. 257.) 

Honiton, iith June, 16S5, near 
1 3 at night. 

May it please your sacred Majesty : 
This evening, between seven and eight 
of the clock, there came in a great ship 
into the road of Lyme, not showing 
any colours; the off-side of the ship 
unseen by us on the shore : she filled 
five great boats full of men, which they 
speeded behind the Cobb, and so landed 
them to the westward of the town : they 
went over the cliffs, and presently were 
in the town at least 300 men, the Duke 
of Monmouth at the head of them, so 
that they became masters of the town. 
I presently, well knowing that I should 
'be first seized, took my horse, and came 
with speed to this town, and gave notice 
to all the country as I came ; and sent 
m)' servants, that notice should be given 
to Sornerset and Dorsetshires ; and I 
hope to be at Exeter, to give an account 
of it to the Duke of Albemarle within 
two hours. 

With the great ship, there is a ketch 
of about one hundred tons, and a fiy- 
boat, which I judge to be about two 
hundred tons : neither of them had 
landed any men when I came thence ; 
but we suppose them to be full of 
men. 

I find this place, and all the country, 
to be very ready to betake themselves to 
their arms against the rebels. In the 
morning at Chideocke, in our bay, they 
landed two men ; which I, understand- 
ing, sent by all ways to apprehend 
them. Whether they are taken, I 
know not : so I humbly beseech your 
Majesty to pardon this distracted rela- 
tion, not doubting but they have plun- 
dered me. 

I am, your Majesty's most humble 
and obedient servant and subject. 



Unmet. 

The alarm was brought hot to Lon- 
don : where upon the general report 
and belief of the thing, an act of at- 
tainder passed both houses in one day ; 
some small opposition being made by 
the Earl of Anglesey, because the evi- 
dence did not seem clear enough for so 
severe a sentence, which was grounded 
on the notoriety of the thing. The sum 
of 5,000/ was set on his head. . . . 
The Duke of Monmouth's manifesto 
was long, and ill penned : full of much 
black and dull malice. It "was plainly 
Ferguson's style, which was both tedi- 
ous and fulsome. 



9. Monmouth's Declaration. (In 
Roberts's Monmouth. London, 1S44. 
Vol. I., p. 335.) 

. . . We are particularly compelled 
to say, that all the boundaries of the 
Government have of late been broken, 
and nothing left unattempted, for turn- 
ing our limited monarchy into an abso- 
lute tyranny. . . . Our religion hath 
been all along undermined by Popish 
councils, and our privileges ravished 
from us by fraud and violence. And 
more especially, the whole course and 
series of the life of the present usurper 
hath been but one continued conspiracy 
against the reformed religion, and rights 
of the nation. For whosoever consid- 
ers his contriving the burning of Lon- 
don ; his instigating a confederacy with 
France and a war with Holland ; his 
fomenting the Popish Plot, and encour- 
aging the murther of Sir Ed. Godfrey 
to stifle it ; his forging treason against 
protestants, and suborning witnesses to 
swear the patriots of our religion and 
liberties out of their lives ; his hiring 
execrable villains to assassinate the late 
Earl of Essex, and causing several 
others to be clandestinely cut off, in 
hopes to conceal it ; his advising and 



1 66 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 



procuiung the prorogation and dissolu- 
tion of parliaments, in order to prevent 
inquiry into his crimes, and that he 
might escape the justice of the nation : 
such can imagine nothing so black and 
horrid in itsself , or so ruinous and de- 
structive to religion and the kingdom 
which we may not expect from him, 
upon his having invaded the throne, 
and usurped the title of a king. . . . 

Unless we could be willing to be 
slaves as well as papists . . . and 
withal be unmindful of our duty to 
God, our country and posterity, deaf to 
the cries and groans of our oppressed 
friends, and be satisfied not only to see 
them and ourselves imprisoned, robbed 
and murthered, but the Protestant in- 
terest throughout the whole world be- 
trayed to France and Rome, we are 
bound as men and Christians ... to 
betake ourselves to arms. . . . Now 
therefore we do solemnly declare and 
proclaim war against James Duke of 
York, as a murderer and an assassin of 
innocent men ; a Popish usurper of the 
crown, traitor to the nation and tyrant 
over the people. . . . 

And whereas the said James Duke 
of York, in order to the expediting the 
idolatrous and bloody designs of the 
Papists, the gratifying his own bound- 
less ambition after a crown, and to hin- 
der inquiry into his assassination of 
Arthur Earl of Essex, hath poisoned 
the late King, and therein manifested 
his ingratitude, as well as cruelty to the 
world, in murdering a brother, who 
had almost ruined himself to preserve 
and protect him from punishment : we 
do therefore further declare, that for 
the afoi-esaid villanous and unnatural 
crime, and other his crimes before 
mentioned, and in pursuance of the 
resolution of both Houses of Parlia- 
ment, who voted to revenge the King's 
death in case he came to an untimely 
end, we will prosecute the said James 



Duke of York till we have brought him 
to suffer what the law adjudged to be 
the punishment of so execrable a fact. 
And in a more particular inanner, his 
Grace the Duke of Monmouth, being 
deeply sensible of that barbarous and 
horrid parricide committed upon his 
father, doth resolve to pursue the said 
James Duke of York as a mortal and 
bloody enemy. . . . 

And forasmuch as the said James 
Duke of Monmouth, the now head and 
Captain General of the Protestant forces 
of this Kingdom . . . hath been, and 
still is believed, to ' have a legitimate 
and legal right to the crowns of Eng- 
land, Scotland, France and Ireland 
. . . the said Duke of Monmouth, 
from the generousness of his own na- 
ture and the love he bears to these na- 
tions . . . doth not at present insist 
upon his title, but leaves the determina- 
tion thereof to the wisdom, justice and 
authority of a Parliament. . . . 

Our dependence and trust is upon the 
Loi'd of Hosts, in whose name we go 
forth, and to whom we commit our 
cause, and refer the decision betwixt us 
and our enemies in the day of battle. 
Now let us play the men for our peo- 
ple, and for the cities of our God ; and 
the Lord do that which seemeth good 
unto him. 



I o Correspondence of Monmouth and 
Albemarle. (In Roberts, Vol. I. p. 
326. Also in Ellis.) 

To our trusty and%vell-beloved Cousin 
and Councillor^ Christopher 
Lord Duke of Albe7narle. 
My Lord : Whereas we are credibly 
informed that there are some horse and 
foot in arms under your command for 
James Duke of York, which are pur- 
posely raised in opposition to us and 
our royal authority ; we thought fit to 
signify to you our resentment thereof, 
and do promise ourself that what you 



Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 167 



have transacted therein was through in- 
advertency and mistake ; and that your 
Grace will take other means, when you 
have received information of our being 
proclaimed King, to succeed our royal 
father, lately deceased. We have 
therefore sent this messenger on pur- 
pose to intimate the same unto you ; 
and it is our royal will and pleasure, 
and we do hereby strictly charge and 
command you, upon notice and receipt 
thereof, to cease all hostility, and force, 
and arms against us and all our loving 
subjects; and that your Grace would 
immediately repair to our camp, where 
you shall not fail of a very kind recep- 
tion by us ; or, in default of the prem- 
ises, we shall be obliged to proclaim 
you, and all those in arms under your 
command, rebels and traitors, and shall 
proceed against yovi accordingly. Yet 
we assure ourself that your Grace will 
pay ready obedience to our command ; 
■wherefore we bid you hearty farewell. 

James R. 

For James Scott, late Dicke of 
^lonmoiith. 

I received your letter, and do not 
doubt but you would use me kindly if 
you had me ; and since you have given 
vourself the trouble of invitation, this 
is to let you know that I never was, 
nor never will be, a rebel to my lawful 
King, who is James the Second. If 
you think I am in the wrong, and you 
in the right, whenever we meet I do 
not doubt but the justness of my cause 
shall sufficiently convince you that you 
had better have lett this rebellion alone, 
and not have put the nation to so much 
trouble. 

Albemarle. 



1 1 . Extract from Burnet. 

Upon the duke of Monmouth's land- 
ing, man)- of the country people came 
in to join him, but very few of the 



gentry. He had quickly men enough 
about him to use all his arms. The 
duke of Albemarle, as lord lieutenant 
of Devonshire, was sent down to raise 
the militia, and with them to make head 
against him. But their ill affection ap- 
peared very evidently : many deserted, 
and all were cold in the service. The 
duke of Monmouth had the whole 
country open to him for almost a fort- 
night, during which time he was very 
diligent in training and animating his 
men. His own behaviour was so 
gentle and obliging, that he was master 
of all their hearts, as much as was pos- 
sible. But he quickly found, what it 
was to be at the head of undisciplined 
men, that knew nothing of war, and that 
were not to be used with rigour. . . . 
The duke of Monmouth's great error 
was, that he did not in the first heat 
venture on some hardy action, and then 
march either to Exeter or Bristol ; 
Vk'here, as he would have found much 
wealth, so would he have gained some 
reputation by it. But he lingered in 
exercising his men, and stayed too long 
in the neighborhood of Lime. 

By this means the King had time 
both to bring troops out of Scotland, 
after Argile was taken, and to send to 
Holland for the English and Scotch 
regiments that were in the sei-vice of 
the States ; which the prince [William] 
sent over very readily, and offered his 
own person, and a greater force, if it 
was necessary. [The King was too 
wise to accept. — Old Commentator r^ 
The King received this with great ex- 
pressions of acknowledgment and kind- 
ness. It was very visible, that he was 
much distracted in his thoughts, and 
that vsrhat appearance of courage soever 
he might put on, he was inwardly full 
of apprehensions and fears. . . . He 
had no mind to be much obliged to the 
prince of Orange, or to let him into his 
counsels or affairs. . . . 



1 68 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 



The King could not choose worse 
than he did when he gave the command 
to the Earl of Feversham. . . . Mon- 
mouth had almost surprised lord Fever- 
sham, and all about him, while they 
were a-bed. He got in between two 
bodies, into which the army lay divided. 
He now saw his error in lingering so 
long. He began to want bread, and to 
be so straitened, that there was a neces- 
sity of pushing for a speedy decision. 
He was so misled in his march, that he 
lost an hour's time : and when he came 
near the army, there was an inconsider- 
able ditch, in the passing wdiich he lost 
so much more time, that the officers had 
leisure to rise and be dressed, now they 
had the alarm and they put themselves 
in order. Yet the duke of Monmouth's 
foot stood longer and fought better than 
could have been expected : especially, 
when the small body of horse they had, 
ran upon the first charge, the blame of 
which was cast on the Lord Grej'. The 
foot being thus forsaken and galled by 
the cannon, did run at last. About a 
thousand of them were killed on the 
spot : and i soo were taken prisoners. 
Their numbers when fullest, were 
between five and six thousand. The 
duke of Monmouth left the field too 
soon for a man of courage, who had 
such high pretensions : for a few days 
before he had suffered himself to be 
called king, which did him no service, 
even among those that followed him. 
He rode towards Dorsetshire : and 
when his horse could carry him no 
further, he changed clothes with a 
shepherd, and went as far as his legs 
could carry him, being accompanied 
only with a German, whom he had 
brought over with him. At last, when 
he could go no further, he lay down in 
a field where there was hay and straw, 
with which they covered themselves, 
so that they hoped to lie there unseen 
till night. Parties went out on all 



hands to take prisoners. The shepherd 
was found by the lord Lumley, in the 
duke of Monmouth's clothes. So this 
put them on his track, and having some 
dogs with them they followed the scent, 
and came to the place where the Ger- 
man was first discovered. And he im- 
mediately pointed to the place where 
the duke of Monmouth lay. So he was 
taken. . . . His body was quite sunk 
with fatigue : and his mind was now 
so lo^v, that he begged his life in a 
manner that agreed ill with the coui-age 
of the former parts of it. He called 
for pen, ink, and paper ; and wrote to 
the earl of Feversham, and both to the 
queen, and the queen dov\'ager, to inter- 
cede with the King for his life. The 
King's temper, as well as his interest, 
made it so impossible to hope for that, 
that it shewed a great meanness in him 
to ask it in such terms as he used in his 
letters. He was carried up to White- 
hall ; where the King examined him in 
person, which was thought very in- 
decent, since he was resolved not to 
pardon him. He made new and unbe- 
coming submissions, and insinuated a 
readiness to change his religion : for he 
said, the King knew what his first 
education was in religion. 



1 3 . Letter of the Duke of Monmouth 
to James 11. (In Roberts, Vol. I. p. 

. . . The Prince and Princess of 
Orange will be witness for me of the 
assurance I gave them, that I would 
never stir against you. But my mis- 
fortune was such as to ineet with some 
horrid people that made me believe 
things of your Majesty, and gave me so 
many false arguments, that I was fully 
led away to believe that it was a shame 
and a sin before God not to do it. . . . 

I am sure, sir, when you hear me, 
3'ou will be convinced of the zeal I have 



Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 169 



of your preservation, and how lieartily 
I repent of what I have done. I can 
say no more to 3'our Majesty now, being 
this letter must be seen by those that 
keep me. Tlierefore, sir, I shall make 
an end, in begging of your Majesty to 
believe so well of me, that I would 
rather die a thousand deaths than ex- 
cuse anything I have done, if I did not 
really think myself the most in wrong 
that ever a man was, and had not from 
the bottom of my heart an abhorrence 
for those that put me upon it, and for 
the action itself. I hope, sir, God 
Almighty will strike your heart with 
mercy and compassion for me, as He 
has done mine with the abhorrence of 
what I have done. Wherefore, sir, I 
hope I may live to show you how zeal- 
ous I shall ever be for your service : 
and could I but say one word in this 
letter, you would be convinced of it ; 
but it is of that consequence that I dare 
not do it. Therefore, sir, I do beg of 
you once more to let me speak to 3'ou, for 
then you will be convinced how much 
I shall ever be 

Your Majesty's most humble and 
dutiful 

Monmouth. 



13. Extracts from the Buccleugh 
MSS. (In Appendix of Sir Patrick 
Hume's Narrative. London, 1S09.) 

The Duke of Monmouth from the 
time of his being taken in the West, 
shewd a ^vonderful concernedness to 
save his life, and stuck at nothing that 
could secure to him the hopes of dooing 
it. His Majestie was the first pei'son 
that he made his application to, by a 
humble and submissive letter : . . . 
giving the King to understand that he 
has such important matters to commu- 
nicate to his Majestie, that should secure 
his whole nations against the fears and 
disturbances of rebellion and sedition 
€ver after ; and that by the satisfaction 



he imagines this discover)- -would give 
the King he doubted not, but in some 
measure, to deserve pardon upon this 
consideration. He was admitted to see 
the King at Mr. Griffin's, where, at his 
Majestie appearing, he fell down on his 
knees and with much earnestness 
begged his life, and his Majestie's 
pardon for what he had done. The 
King told him, of the latest. The sub- 
stance in generall of what he told his 
Majestie, and as yet has come to m_y 
knowledge, was : That he was deceived 
and imposed upon by a company of 
rogues and villans, that flattered him 
with the hopes and promises of achiev- 
ing of great matters; and that if he 
land once on English ground all the 
nation would appear for him . . . that 
Fergusone was chiefly the person that 
instigat him to set up his title of King 
and had been a main adviser and con- 
triver of the whole affair, as well to the 
attempting as acting what had been 
done. . . . 

That night he was carried away to 
the tower. 

After that the devotionarie and inter- 
rogatorie pairt had bein over, he went 
to that pairt of the scaffold where the 
block and ax laye. The axe he took 
into his hand, and felt the edge of it, 
saying to Jack Ketch [the original 
Jack Ketch. — Ed.], the executioner, that 
sure the axe did not feill as if it were 
sharp enough, and prayed him that he 
would doe his ofKce weill, and not 
serve him as he was told he had done 
the late Lord Russell ; for if he gave 
him two stroaks, he would not promise 
him that he would lye still to receive 
the third ; and putting his hand in his 
pocket, gave him six guinies ; telling 
him, that if he did his dutie weel, he 
left six more in his servant's hands to be 
given him after he was dead, provyding 
he did his busines handsomely. All 



170 Rebellion of Argyle and Monmouth 



this he said witli alse much indiffer- 
encie and unconcernednes as if he were 
siveing' ordours for a sute of cloatlies. 
Noe cliange nor alteratione of counte- 
nance from the first unto the last ; but 
stript himself of his coat; and haveing 
prayed, layed himself downe, and fitted 
his neck to the block, with all the calm- 
nes of temper and composer of mynd 
that ever hath bein observed in any that 
mounted that fatall scafold before. He 
would have no cap to his head, nor be 
bound, nor have anie thing on his feace ; 
and yett for all this, the botcherly dog, 
the executioner, did soe barbarously act 
his pairt, that he could not at fyve 
stroaks of the ax, sever the head from 
the body. At the first, which made 
only a slender dash in his necke, his 
body heaved up and his head turned 
about ; the second stroak he made only 
a deeper dash, after which the body 



moved ; the third, not being the work^ 
he threw away the ax, and said, God 
damne me, I can doe no more, my 
heart fails me. The bystanders had 
much adoe to forbear throwing him 
over the scafold ; but made him take 
the ax againe, threatening to kill him if 
he did not doe his deutie better, which 
tuo stroaks more not being able to 
finish the work, he was fain at last to 
draw furth his long knife and with it to 
cutt of the remaining pairt of his neck. 
If there had not bein a guard before the 
shouldieres to conduct the executioner 
away, the people would have torne him 
to pieces, soe great was their indigna- 
tione at the barbarous usage of the leat 
Duek of Monmouth, receaved at his 
hand. There were many that had the 
superstitious curiositie of dipping their 
handkercheifs in his blood, and carrey- 
ing it away as a precious relique. 



GROUP XIX. 



THE ARBITRARY RULE OF JAMES II. 



I. Letter of Dr. Hickes to Dr. 
Charlett. (In Aubrey, Letters by emi- 
nent persons. London, 181 3.) 

Jan 23rd, 1710-1 1. 
Dear Sir : I . . . can defer my 
humble thanks no longer for your kind 
New Years gifts, the stately Almanack 
and the Orationes ex Poetis I^atinis, 
where ... I cast my eyes on the 
Sortes Virgilianae of Charles I. 

At Bella Alidads Populi vexattts, etc. 

This gave me some melancholy re- 
flections for an hour or two, and made 
me call to my mind . . . the omens 
that happened at the coronation of . . . 
James II., which I saw, viz. : the totter- 
ing of his crown upon his head, the 
broken canopy over it, and the rent 
flag hanging vipon the white tower 



over against my door when I came- 
home from the coronation. It was torn 
by the wind at the same time the signal 
was given to the tower that he was 
crowned. 

I put no gi'eat stress upon oinens but: 
I cannot despise them : most of them I 
believe come by chance, but some from 
superior agents, especially those which 
regard the fate of kings and nations. 



2. Description of James II. by an 
anonymous Contemporary. (In Mac- 
pherson's Original Papers, I. 589.) 

He was something above the middle 
stature, well-shaped, very nervous and 
strong. His face was rather long, his 
countenance engaging. But his out- 
ward carriage was a little stiff and con- 



The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 171 



strained. He was not so gracious as 
he was courteous and obliging. He 
was affable and of easy access. He 
affected no formality, though no one 
knew the ceremonial better, nor was 
more exact in the observation of them 
when necessary. . . . Having some 
hesitation in his speech, his conversa- 
tion was not so graceful as it was judi- 
cious and solid. His temper was natu- 
rally hot and choleric. But, m his 
latter days, he got the better of that ; 
and, even in his younger days, it seldom 
so much overpowered him, as to make 
him do any action unbecoming. . . . 
He was a great lover of walking and 
hunting. But no diversion made him 
neglect business ; to which he had so 
great an application, that it seemed to 
be of the number of his diversions. He 
was so distinguishable for this, that, 
during his younger days, notwithstand- 
ing the unsettledness of his condition, 
vv'hile he lived in exile, he had not only 
performed his duty with great exact- 
ness, but kept an account of all occur- 
ences ; and he has obliged posterity 
with better memoirs under his own 
hand, than perhaps any sovereign 
prince has been known to leave behind 
him before. 

He was, all his life, a great enemy 
to drinking, gaming, and indeed to all 
diversions which commonly render men 
incapable of business. . . . His affec- 
tion for the Qiieen was mixed with a 
respect and deference. He was the 
best father in the world, and the most 
unfortunate in some of his children ; 
the best master, yet the worst served : 
a most constant friend, yet never prince 
found fewer in his greatest necessities. 
He \vas so fond of his children, in par- 
ticular, that when he found the princess 
of Denmark [Anne] had deserted him, 
upon his return from Salisbury, he 
only seemed anxious about her health 
and fears for her miscarriage. 



3. Extracts from Fountainhall's Me- 
moirs. 

16S5. 

. . . The King, the Sunday im- 
mediately following his brother's death, 
went openly to his Qiiean's popish, 
chappell, and heard masse, and de- 
clared, that when he was a subject, he 
had that respect for the laws of Eng- 
land, that he would not break them, 
but now as King, being above the ex- 
ecutive force of the law, he ouned 
his religion, which was judged in- 
genuity. . . . 

Our King hearing how the French 
King had receaved Churchill, he payes 
him in his oune coin, and receives 
Lorge sitting in his chair of state in the 
gallery with his hat on ; which some 
French resented, tho it may be meer 
policy, to give out that ther is a misun- 
derstanding between the 2 kings, to 
please the English. The last king ad- 
mitted embassadors without any pomp 
or ceremony, to speak him standing in 
his bedchamber with his hat of. 

The change upon the face of the 
English court is very remarkable : in 
the last king's tyme mirth, playes, 
buffoonerie, etc., domineered, and was 
incouraged ; now, there is litle to 
be seen but seriousnesse and busi- 
nesse. . . . 

On the iSth of April, being the 
vigil before Easter, the King washed 
53 poor men's feet, according to the 
number of the years of his oune age, 
and he touches severalls for the King's 
Evill. He emits a new severe Procla- 
mation against duels, and certifies, 
whoever intices another, or brings a 
second with him, he will pardon none 
of them. . . . The King delivered to 
both Houses his Speach . . . where- 
in he differs much from his broth- 
er's style, and signifies his pleasure 
in very peremptorie termes, that it 
will not be ther best way to feed him 



172 The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 



from tyme to tyme with supplies, for 
that will not praevaill Avith him to 
gather them the oftner together ; then 
he acquaints them witli Argile's rebel- 
lion in Scotland and hopes they will 
give him a suitable supply against the 
same. And they having on the 23 
of May signified to his Majesty, that 
by ana act they would settle all the 
revenue of tonnage and poundage [on 
his Majesty for his life-time] . . . 
and that they would stand by him with 
their lives and fortunes against Argile 
and all other conspirators ; he (with- 
out giving them thanks, as his brother 
used to doe,) with a very dry comple- 
ment, tells them, they could doe no 
lesse in consulting ther oune security. 
And in his Speach of the 30 of May, 
he craves a farder supply ; and to flat- 
ter the genius of the nation, he tells 
them in a style wain enough, that he 
hopes to raise the reputation of Eng- 
land beyond what any of his praede- 
■cessors [had done]. . . . Whereupon 
the House of Commons vote him a 
farder supply. . . . Some ascrybed 
this complyance of the House of Com- 
mons with the King more to fear than 
love, and that he took the true way of 
treating Englishmen, in King Henry 
the 8th' s minatory forme, that as he 
would invade no man's properties, so 
he would quite none of his oune rights 
and praerogatives ; and that he began 
with them as he intended to end : for 
the old distich holds true, Aiiglica gens, 
optuna Jlens, pessniza ridens ', with 
too much prosperity they turne unsup- 
portably insolent, so that it is not safe 
to flatter or cajole them ; for sundry of 
this house of Coinmons are disaffected, 
tut are borne doune by the major part, 
who syde with the King, the elections 
in counties and burrows being so man- 
adged, that by the limitations of the 
new charters given them, and excom- 
munications and other methods used to 



debar such as they doubted, they got 
many of them to the King' s oune mind ; 
which was a point liis late brother 
could never of late compasse, tho he 
had as much of his people's love as the 
present King hes, only he was no so 
much feared by them. ... If the 
King had ane army up, it's like he 
would not disband it so easily as his 
brother did his. . . . 

The English Parliament met again 
on the 9th of November, 16S5, by his 
Majestie's special call: wher the King 
tells them that, in this late invasion 
[Monmouth's] ther was a great discov- 
ery of the insufficiency of the militia to 
suppresse risings, which had moved 
him to double the standing forces there 
had been in his brother's tyme . . . 
and therfor he hoped they would grant 
him a suitable supply to defray it ; and 
that he had made use of some to be 
officers in his army who ware not qual- 
ified according to the laws (being pop- 
ish), but to deal plainly with them 
he would nather expose nor desert 
them. . . . 

The two Houses having retired, the 
Peers ware induced to thank the King 
for his Speach ; but the commons de- 
mui'red on it, they liked nather the on 
part of the Speach nor the other : a 
standing army they ware not for . . . 
and, as to Popish officers they . . . 
would have them removed in tyme 
coming. . . . 

The Lord Jeffries, Chancelor, 
brought in a bill to the House of 
Peers for reschinding the Test made 
in 1678 against transsubstantiation, and 
for allowing the Popish lords (who are 
17 in England) to come and sit in the 
House of Peers. . . . Upon this mo- 
tion of the Chancelor's many of the 
nobility and bischops got up and 
shewed great resentment and indigna- 
tion, clouds of them speaking at once ; 
and he reprooving them, as violating 



The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 173 



the order and forme of Parliament, on 
told him they knew what decency be- 
came a Parliament as weell as he knew 
the King's Bench, reflecting on his 
rise. The peers, who used alwayes to 
be most tame and obseqnious to the 
Kings, turned very giddy and discon- 
tent in this Parliament ; what had of- 
fended and allarumed them was the 
King's turning the Marquis of Halifax, 
Bischop of London, etc., of his Privy 
Counscll. . . . What displeased the 
Peers is, i . That it's the temper and 
genius of English Parliaments to begin 
fair, and to be fond and kind to ther 
new Princes, but ther concord uses not 
to last long. 3. It was publickly 
knowen in London, that a Nuncio or 
Vicar general! was come from the Pope 
to the King at London . . . whereas 
ther had not been such embassies pass- 
ing between Rome and England never 
since the reigne of Quean Mary thesse 
130 years. 

Li the house of peers ther ware od 
speaches : ther religion (on said) was 
like the banks in Holland which bri- 
dled the sea; once make a breach in 
them, all their hands would not be 
able to stop the breach and inundation. 
. . . The Bischop of London went to 
the King, and fell on his knees, intreat- 
ing him to quiet and secure the minds 
of the peeple, . . . and they say, the 
King turned on his heel. . . . 

As for the commons, the King can 
never expect to get a better constituted 
House of Commons. . . . They are all 
men almost pricked doun by the King 
himself as his freinds, and ther ar about 
150 of them his defenders and pension- 
ers : so that it behooved to be a very 
extroordinary demand of the Kings that 
startled them : and the truth was, many 
loyall subjects wished he had not scrued 
the pine so hy in his Speach, as he left 
no honourable roume for a retrait to 



himselfe, if the Parliament should not 
grant his desire. . . . 

The King was so irritated with their 
free discourses on the iSth, that he took 
resolution that same night to prorogue 
them ; which he did on the 19th in the 
jnorning, (which was knowen to few,) 
having come to the House of Peers in 
his robes, and the croun on his head, 
and called up the House of Commons 
and their Speaker, and so prorogued 
them himselfe. . . . The members of 
the English Parliament are observed to 
be very calme when out of Parliament, 
but seldome doe they return better 
natured than when they parted, but 
rather with 7 devills. . . . The rich 
men in the city of London are very 
discontented, and so renders trade 
very dead. . . . 

The King was resolved in this last 
Parliament, to have passed ane act that 
ther Habeas Corpus write should not 
liberate in treason, .that the King might 
not be forced to insist or divulge his 
proofs ther, in cases of treason, before 
he ware ready, which in experience he 
had found to be prejudiciall. . . . 

In April, 1686, my two servants 
being imprisoned, and I threatened 
therewith, as also, that they would 
seize upon my papers, and search if 
they contained anything offensive to 
the party then prevail ling, I was neces- 
sitated to hide this Manuscript and 
many others, and intermit my Historick 
Remarks till the Revolution in the end 
of 168S. 

Rer-esby' s Metnoirs. 

March 3nd, 16S5. 
... It was now out of doubt that 
the King was a Papist, for he went 
publicly to mass ; but he ordered the 
chapel at Whitehall to be kept in the 
same order as formerly, where the 
Princess of Denmark [later Queen 
Anne] went dailj'. The King repaired 
to the Qiieen's private chapel. . . . 



174 The Arbitrary Rule of James II, 



Nov. 20th. 

. . . The Popish party at this time 
behaved themselves with an insolence 
which did them a prejudice. The King 
of France continued to practise all the 
cruelties imaginable towards the Pro- 
testants in France to make them turn 
Papists, commanding that all extrem- 
ities should be used but death, as seiz- 
ing their lands, razing their temples 
and houses, taking all their goods, put- 
ting them into prisons, quartering 
dragoons with them to eat up their 
estates and to watch them that they 
should not sleep till they changed their 
religion. Many of them fled into all 
parts as they could escape, poor and 
naked ; for their estates were stopped 
and themselves condemned to the gal- 
leys if they were taken attempting to 
fly. . . . 

March i. 

. . . Though it could not be said 
that there was as yet any remarkable 
invasion upon the rights of the Church 
of England, yet the King gave all the 
encouragement he could to the increase 
of his own, by putting more papists 
into office, but especially in Ireland ; 
by causing or allowing popish books to 
be printed and sold and cried publicly ; 
-by publishing some popish papers 
found in the late King's closet, and the 
declaration of his dying a papist and 
the manner of it ; . . .by sending my 
Lord Castelmaine upon a solemn em- 
bassy to the Pope, and many other such 
things ; which made all men expect 
that more would follow of a greater 
concern. . . . 

May 13th. 

. . . The King having lately got a 
Jesuit for his confessor, went on faster 
than formerly in promoting the Roman 
Catholic religion. 



4. Extracts from Burnet. (After 
Monmouth's Execution.) 

Thus lived and died this unfortunate 
young man. He had several good 
qualities in him, and some that were as 
bad. He was soft and gentle even to 
excess, and too easy to those who had 
credit with him. He was both sincere 
and good-natured, and understood war 
well. But he was too much given to 
pleasure and to favourites. . . . 

The King was now as successful as 
his own heart could wish. . . . And 
certainly a reign that was now so be- 
yond expectation successful in its first 
six months seemed so well settled that 
no ordinar}' mismanagement could have 
spoiled such beginnings. If the King 
had ordered a speedy execution of such 
persons as were fit to be made public 
examples, and had upon that granted a 
general indemnity ... it is not easy 
to imagine with what advantage he 
might then have opened and pursued 
his designs. 

But his own temper, and the fury of 
some of his ministers, and the maxims 
of his priests . . . concurred to make 
him lose advantages that were never to 
be recovered. . . . The army \vas kept 
for some time in the western counties, 
where both officers and soldiers lived as 
in an enemy's country, and treated all 
that were believed to be ill affected to 
the King with great rudeness and 
violence. 

Kirk, who had commanded long in 
Tangier, was become so savage by the 
neighbourhood of the Moors there, that 
some days after the battle, he ordered 
several of the prisoners to be hanged 
up at Taunton, without so much as the 
form of law, he and his company look- 
ing on from an entertainment they were 
at. At every new health another pris- 
oner was hanged up. And they were 
so brutal, that observing the shaking of 
the legs of those whom they hanged, it 



The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 175 



was said among them, they were danc- 
ing ; and upon that music was called 
for. 

But, as if this had been nothing, 
Jeffries was sent the western circuit to 
try the prisoners. His behaviour was 
beyond anything that was ever heard of 
in a civilized nation. He was perpet- 
ually either drunk or in a rage, liker a 
fury than the zeal of a judge. He re- 
quired the prisoners to plead guilty. 
And in that case he gave them some 
hope of favour if they gave him no 
trouble : otherwise, he told them, he 
would execute the letter of the law upon 
them in its utmost severity. This made 
many plead guilt}' who had a great de- 
fence in law. But he shewed no mercy. 
He ordered a great many to be hanged 
up immediately without allowing them 
a minute's time to say their prayers. 
He hanged, in several places, about six 
hundred persons. The impieties with 
which he treated them . . . would 
have amazed one, if done by a bashaw 
in Turkey. England had never known 
anything like it. 

But that which brought all his 
excesses to be imputed to the King 
himself, and to the orders given by 
him, was, that the King had a particu- 
lar account of all his proceedings writ 
to him every day. And he took pleas- 
ure to relate them in the drawing room 
to foreign ministers, and at his table, 
calling it Jeffries' s campaign [also in 
letters. — Ed.] . . . Dykfield was at that 
time in England, one of the ambassa- 
dors whom the States had sent over to 
congratulate the King's coming to the 
crown. He told me, that the King 
talked so often of these things, that he 
wondered to see him break out into 
those indecencies. And upon Jeffries' s 
coming back, he was created a baron 
and peer of England. [He was created 



a baron and peer before. Old Com- 
mentator .'\ . . . Pen [Sylvan Penn] 
who saw the execution [of old Lad}' 
Lisle, who fell asleep at her trial] . . . 
said to me, the king was much to be 
p'ltied, who was hurried into all this 
effusion of blood by Jeffries' s impetuous 
and cruel temper. 



5. Extracts from an " Lnpartial Ac- 
count of Kirk's Cruelties . . . by 
... an Eye and Ear Witness." (In 
the work known as the Bloody As- 
sizes, 5th Edition.) 

When Kirk came first into Taunton 
he came ■with two cartloads of men 
bloody, and their wounds not drest, 
just as they were hauled into Bridge- 
water Prison. . . . He also brought 
with him into Taunton, a great drove 
of foot, chained two and two together. 
He hanged 19 on the Corn-hill imme- 
diately. . . . He caused their bowels 
to be burnt, and their quarters to be 
boiled in pitch, and hanged all about 
the town. 

Kirk hanged one on the White Heart 
sign-post three times, to ti'y if he would 
own he had done amiss ; but he affirmed 
(to this effect) that if it was to do 
again, he ■svould engage in the same 
cause ; so Kirk would have him hang'd 
in chains ; and so he was, till King 
William came to the deliverance of this 
nation from popery and slavery. 

When Jenkins, Hewlings, etc., were 
to die, before they came out, there was 
a great fire made on the Corn-hill, that 
so they might see the fire that was to 
biu'n their bowels. 

Some that Kirk caused to be hanged, 
he caused also their bodies to be stript, 
and their breasts to be cleav'd asunder ; 
in the place where he caused the execu- 
tions to be done, you might have gone 
up to the ankles in blood. 



176 The Arbitrary Rule of James 11. 



Formula for Sentences of Judges. 

(Qiioted by Roberts from "State 
Trials.") 

You must ever)' one of you be had 
back to the place from whence you 
came, from thence you must be drawn 
to the place of execution, and there 
you must severally be hanged by the 
necks, every one of you by the neck 
till you are almost dead ; and then 
you must be cut down, your entrails 
must be taken out and burnt before 
your faces ; your several heads to be 
cut off, and your bodies to be divided 
into four jDarts, and those to be disposed 
of at the pleasure of the King : and 
the Lord have merey upon your souls. 



6. Extract from North's Life of 
Guilford. (In Jessop's Lives of the 
Norths. London, iSoo. Vol. I. p. 
38S.) 

" Noisy in nature. Turbulent at 
first setting out. Deserter in difficul- 
ties. Full of tricks. Helped by sim- 
ilar friendships. Honesty, law, policy, 
alike." 

This, to conclude, is the summary 
character of the Lord Chief Justice 
Jeffries and needs no interpreter. . . . 
I will subjoin what I have personally 
noted of the man ; and some things of 
indubitable report concerning him. 
. . . His delights were . . . drinking, 
laughing, singing, kissing, and all the 
extravagances of the bottle. He had a 
set of banterers for the most part, near 
him ; as in old time great men kept fools 
to make them merry. . . . No friend- 
ship or dearness could be so great in 
private which he would not use ill, and 
to an extravagant degree, in publick. 
No one . . . was safe from his public 
contempt and derision. . . . When he 
was in temper and matters indifferent 



came before him, he became his seat of 
justice better than any other I ever saw 
in his place. He took a pleasure in 
mortifying fraudulent attorneys and 
would deal forth his severities with a 
sort of majesty. He had extraordinary 
natural abilities. . . . He talked flu- 
ently and with spirit ; and his weak- 
ness was that he could not reprehend 
without scolding ; and in such Billings- 
gate language as should not come out 
of the mouth of any man. He called 
it, "giving a lick with the rough side 
of his tongue." It was ordinary to 
hear him say, "Go, you are a filthy, 
lousy, knitty rascal," with much more 
of like elegance. . . . And that visage 
he put on when he animadverted on 
such as he took offence at, which made 
him a terror to real offenders; whom 
also he terrified, with his face and 
voice, as if the thunder of the day of 
judgement broke over their heads : and 
nothing ever made men tremble like 
his vocal inflictions. He loved to in- 
sult and was bold without check ; but 
that only when his place was upper- 
most. . . . There was a scrivener . . . 
[whose] bill was dismissed with costs, 
and he went his way. In the hall, one 
of his friends asked him how he came 
off? "Came off," said he, "I am 
escaped from the terrors of that man's, 
face which I would scarce undergo 
again to save my life ; and I shall cer- 
tainly have the frightful impression of 
it as long as I live." Afterwards, 
when the Prince of Orange came, and 
all was in confusion, this lord chancel- 
lor, being very obnoxious, disguised 
himself in order to go beyond sea. 
He was in a seaman's garb and drink- 
ing a pot in a cellar. This scrivener 
came into the cellar after some of his 
clients ; and his eye caught that face 
which made him start ; and the chan- 
cellor, seeing himself eyed, feigned a 
cough and turned to the wall. 



The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 177 



7. Extract from the Bloody Assizes. 

■Case of Mr. John Tutchin. 

This young gentleman had the mis- 
fortune, with many others of his ac- 
quaintance, to be in the interest of the 
Duke of Monmouth, but had a better 
fortune than many of 'em, by conceal- 
ing his name. For ... he was com- 
mitted to prison vmder the borrow' d 
name of Thomas Pitts, and his real 
name was not discovered till after he 
was acquitted of the Rebellion, no 
person appearing as evidence against 
him. 

But Jeffreys having discovered his 
true name before Mr. Tutchin was 
gone from the prison, was resolv'd 
upon revenge, and said he was never 
so far outwitted, by an old or young 
rogue in his life. . . . 

Mr. Tutchin . . . was brought up 
again to the hall ; but Jeffreys not car- 
ing to indict him for rebellion, pre- 
tended that the crime of changing his 
name deserved a severe sentence ; and 
thereupon passed sentence as follows : 
That he should remain in prison during 
the space of seven years ; that once 
every year he should be whipt thro' 
all the market towns in Dorsetshire ; 
that he should pay a fine of loo marks 
to the king, and find security for his 
good behaviour during life. This, you 
will say, was a whipping-sentence 
indeed. 

It was observable, when this sentence 
was past upon Mr. Tutchin, that the 
ladies in the court, of which there were 
a great many, all burst out a crying ; 
but Jeffreys turning towards them, 
said, "Ladies, if you did but know 
what a villain this is, as well as I do, 
you would say, this sentence is not half 
bad enough for him." 

Upon passing the sentence the clerk 
of the arraigns stood up, and said, 
''My Lord, there are a great many 



market-towns in this county, the sen- 
tence reaches to a whipping about once 
a fortnight, and he's a very young 
man." "Aye," says Jeffreys, "he's 
a young man, but he's an old rogue; 
and all the interest in England shan't 
reverse the sentence I have past upon 
him." 

But certainly no devil incarnate could 
rage, nor no Billingsgate woman could 
scould worse than this judge did at this 
young gentleman whilst he was at the 
bar. He . . . told him that he was a 
rebel from Adam, that never any of his 
family had the least loyalty ; and, said 
he, "I understand you are a wit and 
poet, pray sir, let you and I cap 
verses." Mr. Tutchin smil'd in his 
face, and told him he knew upon what 
ground he stood, and when he was 
overmatched. . . . 

Mr. Tutchin . . . drew up a peti- 
tion with his own hand, which was pre- 
sented to the King at Winchester, and 
was as follows ..." That he humbly 
conceives the sentence pass'd upon him 
by the said Jeffreys is worse than death ; 
and therefore humbly prays your Maj- 
esty will be mercifully pleas' d to grant 
him the favour of being hang'd with 
those of his fellow-prisoners, that are 
condemned to die." . . . The Court 
esteemed it a barbarous sentence ; and 
it's said the King esteemed it no less. 
But all the answer could be got, was 
from the Lord Sunderland, That Mr. 
Tutchin must wait with patience. . . . 

Four or five days before the execu- 
tion of the sentence, a brother in law of 
Mr. Tutchins, a physician, persuaded 
him to take a dose of physic to make 
himself sick, by which means the exe- 
cution might be put off. . . . He took 
the dose and in three or four days the 
small-pox came out very thick upon 
him, no man ever had 'em to a higher 
degree. . . . Mr. Tutchin lying in this 
miserable condition . . . his friends 



178 The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 



worked the easier with Jeffreys to get 
tlie sentence reversed, which some peo- 
ple would have believed a sign of re- 
pentance in Jeffreys, had he not taken 
the money himself. ... So he was 
popt into a pardon amongst others ; for 
'twas usual at that time for one courtier 
to get a pardon of the king for half a 
score, and then by the assistance of 
Jeffreys to augment the sum to four- 
score or an hundred, and so this unfor- 
tunate gentleman fortunately got out of 
his broil. ... 

Who could have thought, when 
Jeffreys past that sentence on Mr. 
Tutchin in the West, that ever Mr. 
Tutchin should see that. wicked judge a 
prisoner, apprehended by the injur' d 
people, and committed b}' a tool of his 
own party? Yet so it happened. 

For Jeffreys endeavouring to ; make' 
his escape beyond sea in a sailor's habit 
was . . . taken in ' Anchor-and-Hope 
Alley in Wapping, and by the inob 
carried before the instrument of Popery, 

Sir J C- , then Lord Mayor of 

the City of ■ London, and by him com- 
mitted to the Tower. 
. Mr. Tutchin hearing of this, went to 
give his Lordship a visit ; who did not 
know Mr. Tutchin at fiirst, he being 
much altered with the small-pox ; but 
Jeffreys understanding who he was, 
told him, " He was glad to see him." 
Mr. Tutchin answered, " He was glad 
to see him in that place." Jeffreys re- 
turned, that time and place happened 
to all men, . . . and abundance of 
such cant; but added, that he had 
served his master very faithfully accord- 
ing to his conscience. Mr. Tutchin 
asked him, where his conscience was 
vvhen he past that sentence on him in 
the West?. Jeffreys said . . . "'twas 
part of my instructions, to spare no 
man of courage,' parts or estate" ; but 
withal added, that his instructions were 
much more severe than the execution of 



them, and that at his return he was 
snub'd at Court for being too merciful. 
So after he had treated Mr. Tutchin 
with a glass of wine, Mr. Tutchin 
went away. 

Soon after this Jeffreys had a barrel 
of oysters sent him to the Tower, which 
he caused to be opened, saying. He 
thanked God he had some friends left. 
But when the oysters were tumbled out 
on the table, a halter came out with 
them, which made hiin change his 
countenance, and so pall'd his stomach 
that he could eat none of them. This 
was confidently reported to be done by. 
Mr. Tutchin ; but I having heard him 
protest that he was not in the least con- 
cerned therein, we must believe it to be 
done by another hand. 



8. Extracts from Evelym. 

Dec. 39th, 16S6. 
I went to heare the musiq of the 
Italians in the New Chapel, now first 
open'd publicky at Whitehall for the 
Popish service. . . . The throne where 
the King and Queene sit is very glori- 
ous, in a closet above, just opposite to 
the altar. Here we saw the Bishop in 
his mitre and rich copes, with 6 or 7 
Jesuits and others in rich copes, sump- 
tuously habited, often taking off and 
putting on the Bishop's mitre, who sate 
in a chaire with armes pontificaly, was 
ador'd and cens'd by 3 Jesuits in their 
copes ; then he went to the altar and 
made divers cringes, then censing the 
images and glorious tabernacle plac'd 
on the altar, and now and then chang- 
ing place : the crosier which was of 
silver, was put into his hand with a 
world of mysterious ceremony, the 
musiq playing, with singing. I could 
not have believed I should ever have 
seene such'things in the King of Eng- 
land's Palace, after it had pleas' d God 
to enlighten this Nation ; but owr greate 




c/UMff framed irSeef:>ffOJ'M''r() C'/Mfi-c^^o/t^re/iiJea it '///•///,/ 
'rtlteri'rtmsi^'hatdo''ft thom/ai/ -_I>sr>^ V^ ^ sa/i hy p,6unq3<jf7Jim noijx 




—Ji'trrJ C hi/fur/Zey^ '//'/^r-r/f^ f i/if//////'///// t.'//,{''r':-) //'yJAx'nh/ ///<h/r '/r//i^/-/r.\-' AYZ-.h) in a. 



The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 179 



sin has, for the present, eclips'd the 
blessing, which I hope He will in 
mercy and his good time restore to its 
purity. 

Jan. 17th, 16S6-7. 

Much expectation of sevei-all greate 
men declaring themselves Papists. 
Lord Tyrconnell gone to succeed the 
Lord Lieutenant in Ireland, to the as- 
tonishment of all sober men, and to 
the evident ruine of the Protestants in 
that kingdom, as well as of its greate 
improvement going on. Much dis- 
course that all the White Staff officers 
and others should be dismiss' d for ad- 
hering to their religion. Popish Jus- 
tices of the Peace establish' d in all 
counties, of the meanest of the people ; 
Judges ignorant of the law and per- 
verting it — so furiously do the Jesuits 
drive, and even compel Princes to vio- 
lent courses, and destruction of an ex- 
cellent government both in Church and 
State. God of his infinite mercy open 
our eyes and turn our hearts, and es- 
tablish his truth with peace ! The 
Lord Jesus defend his little flock, and 
preserve this threatened Church and 
Nation. 

March 3nd. 

Came out a proclamation for uni- 
versal liberty of conscience in Scotland, 
and dispensation from all tests and 
lawes to the contrary, as also capacitat- 
ing Papists to be chosen into all offices 
of trust. The mysterie operates. 

March loth. 
Most of the greate officers, both in 
the court and country. Lords and 
others, were dismiss' d, as they would 
not promise his Majesty their consent 
to the repeal of the test and penal 
statutes against Popish Recusants. . . . 
This was a time of greate trial, but 
hardly one of them assented, which 
put the Popish interest much back- 
ward. 



April 15th, 16SS. 
The persecution still raging in 
France, multitudes of Protestants, and 
many vei'y considerable and greate per- 
sons flying hither, produc'd a general 
contribution, the Papists, by God's 
Providence, as yet making small prog- 
ress amongst us. . . . 

May Sth. 
His Majesty, alarmed by the greate 
fleet of the Dutch (whilst we had a 
very inconsiderable one), went down 
to Chatham ; their fleete was well pre- 
par'd, and out, before we were in any 
readinesse, or had any considerable 
number to have encounter' d them had 
there ben occasion, to the great reproch 
of the nation ; whilst being in pro- 
found peace, there was a mighty land 
army, which there was no neede of, 
and no force at sea, where only was the 
apprehension ; but the army was doubt- 
less kept and increas'd in order to bring 
in and countenance Popery, the King 
beginning to discover his intentions, by 
many instances persued by the Jesuits, 
against his first resolution to altar noth- 
ing in the Church Establishment, so 
that it appear' d there can be no reli- 
ance on Popish promises. 

June Sth. 
This day the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, with the Bishops of Ely, Chi- 
chester, St. Asaph, Bristol, Peterbor- 
ough, and Bath and Wells, were sent 
from the Privy Council prisoners to the 
Tower, for refusing to give baile for 
their appearance, on their not reading 
the declaration for liberty of conscience ; 
they refus'd to give baile, as it would 
have prejudic'd their peerage. The 
concern of the people for them was 
wonderfull, infinite crouds on their 
knees begging their blessing, and pray- 
ing for them as they pass'd out of the 
barge along the Tower wharf. 



i8o The Arbitrary Rule of James II. 



loth. 

A Youi7g Prince borne, which will 
cause disputes. About 3 o'clock we 
heard the Tower ordnance discharg'd, 
and the bells ringing for the birth of a 
Prince of Wales. This was very sur- 
prizing, it having been universally given 
out that her Majesty did not look till 
the next moneth. 

June 39th. 

The trial [of the bishops] lasted 
from 9 in the morning to past 6 in the 
evening, when the Jury retired to con- 
sider of their verdict, and the Court 
adjourned to 9 the next morning. . . . 
The Chief Justice Wright behav'd 
with great moderation and civility to 
the Bishops. Alibone, a Papist, was 
strongly against them ; but Holloway 
and Powell, being of opinion in their 
favour, they were acquitted. When 
this was heard there was greate rejoic- 
ing ; and there was a lane of people 
from the King's Bench to the water 
side, on their knees, as the Bishops 
pass'd and repass' d, to beg their bless- 
ing. Bonfires were made that night, 
and bells rung, which was taken very 
ill at Court, and an appearance of 
neere 60 Earls and Lords, etc., on the 
bench, did not a little comfort them, 
but indeede they were all along full of 
comfort and cheerfull. 

Note, they denied to pay the Lieu- 
tenant of the Tower (Hales, who us'd 
them very surlily) any fees, alledging 
that none were due. 

Sept. 30th. 

The Court in so extraordinary a con- 
sternation on assurance of the Prince of 
Orange's intention to land, that the 
writs sent forth for a Parliament were 
recall' d. 



October 7th. 
Hourly expectation of the Prince of 
Orange's invasion heighten' d to that 
degree that his Majesty thought fit to 
abrogate the Commission for the dis- 
pensing power (but retaining hi-s own 
right still to dispense with all laws) and 
restore the ejected Fellows of Magda- 
len College, Oxford. In the mean 
time he called over 5000 Irish and 4000 
Scots, and continued to remove Protes- 
tants and put in papists at Portsmouth 
and other places of trust, and retained 
the Jesuits about him, increasing the 
universal discontent. It brought peo- 
ple to so desperate a passe, that they 
seem'd passionately to long for and 
desire the landing of that Prince whom 
they look'd on to be their deliverer from 
Popish tyranny, praying incessantly for 
an east wind, which was said to be the 
only hindrance of his expedition with a 
numerous army ready to inake a 
descent. To such a strange temper, 
and unheard-of in former times, w-as 
this poore nation reduc'd, and of which 
I was an eye-witness. The apprehen- 
sion was (and with reason) that his 
Majesty' s forces would neither at land 
or sea oppose them with that vigour 
requisite to repel invaders. 

Oct. 14th. 
The King's birth-day. No gunns 
from the Tower as usual. The sun 
eclips'd at its rising. This day signal 
for the victory of William the Con- 
queror against Harold, near Batte-l in 
Sussex. The wind, which had been 
hitherto west, was east all this day. 
. . . Public prayers order' d to be 
read in the churches against inva- 
sion. 




■r////a/^//\ > {, 



' / ( 



( /;-/ / 



The Coming of William and Mary i8i 



GROUP XX. 



THE COMING OF WILLIAM AND MARY. 



I. Speech of the Prince of Orange 
to his Dutch Estates. (In Ellis, Orig- 
inal Letters, Series II. Vol. IV. p. 140.) 

Hague, Oct. 13th, 16S8, Old Stile. 

M)' Lords : I am going to the navy 
to embark. I hope you do not take it 
ill that I do not make it known to you 
all where I am going. I will assure 
your Lordships, that what I am design- 
ing is for the good of the Protestant 
Religion in general and of your State 
in particular, as is not unknown to 
some among you. I will either succeed 
in it or spend my blood to the last drop. 

My Lords, your trust in me, and 
kindness to me at this time, is un- 
bounded ; if I live and rnake it not the 
business of my life to make your Lord- 
ships suitable returns for it, my God 
blast all my designs, and make me pass 
for the most ungrateful wretch that 
ever lived. 

Hei-r FageV s Ans'juer by Order {il>.) 

Sir : My Lords the States are not at 
all displeased that you conceal from 
them your design ; they do repose an 
entire confidence in your Highness' 
conduct, zeal to the Protestant I'eligion 
and affection to their State ; otherwise 
they would never have given you the 
absolute disposal of their navy, their 
armies, and their money. My Lord, 
the States wish you all the success in 
your designs, and have ordered a Public 
Fast, and Prayers to God, for your 
success through all their dominions ; 
and beg it of your Highness not to ven- 
ture your life and person unnecessarily, 
for though their navy and their army 
be the very sinews of their State, your 
person is more considerable to them 
than both. 



2. Diary of Sir John Reresby. (Pub- 
lished in London, Longmans, 1875.) 

August 25, 168S. 
I carried my wife and daughter to 
Windsor to wait on the Qiieen. The 
Court was in some trouble and the 
King [James II] out of humour (though 
he was always of so even a temper that 
it was hard to discover it) at the news 
of the Dutch having set out a great fleet 
as designed against us, that the French 
and the Dutch were to fall out, and 
that we were pressed on both sides to 
declare speedily which to take. This, 
considering our affairs at home — viz. 
the jealousies about religion, violent 
discontents about the army, and the ill 
time to call a Parliament to get money, 
did reasonably enough disturb our 
councils. The King the first thing he 
did was to declare that he would call a 
Parliament to meet the 27th of Novem- 
ber following, and gave several reasons 
for it in Council, relating to the good 
and satisfaction of the nation, more 
than the apprehension that he seemed 
to have for the Dutch. . . . 

October ID. 

The news of the Prince of Orange 
increased daily, as to his great fleet 
ready to sail. 

. . . Upon some discourse with the 
said Earl (Danby) at the dean's house, 
the 15th of October, he used these 
expressions : " We are in ill condi- 
tion now in this nation all ways, for 
if the King beat the prince, popery will 
return upon us with more violence than 
ever. If the prince beat the King, the 
Crown and the nation may be in some 
danger." All of which was not alto- 
gether untrue. 



1 82 The Coming of William and Mary 



October 17th. 
... It was very strange, and a cer- 
tain forerunner of the mischiefs that 
ensued upon this invasion, that neither 
the gentry nor common people seemed 
much afraid or concerned at it, saying, 
"The prince comes only to maintain 
the Protestant religion — he will do 
England no harm." On the other 
hand it was suggested from Court that 
he aimed at the Crown, and the Dutch, 
who assisted him, at the trade, of Eng- 
land. And the truth is, his own dec- 
laration when it came, which was a 
little before he landed himself, seemed 
suspicious enough ; for it set forth all 
the grievances of the nation with great 
aggravations— as the King's intention 
to subvert the Government both in 
Church and State ; that he intended to 
root out the Protestant religion, to 
which purpose he had set up the dis- 
pensing power with the laws ; had 
moulded all the charters to his own 
mind, to the end he might have such 
members of Parliament chosen as he 
desired ; had examined and pre- 
eneaged such as he intended for mem- 
bers in the matter of taking off the test 
and the penal laws ; and had, chiefly, 
put a feigned or supposititious Prince 
of Wales upon the nation, only to 
promote popery, and to defeat the 
Prince and Princess of Orange of their 
right of succession. 



3. Extracts from Burnet. 

16S8. 
. . . The prince desired me to go 
along with him as his chaplain, to 
which I very readily agreed : for being 
fully satisfied in iny conscience that the 
undertaking was lawful and just, and 
having had a considerable hand in advis- 
ing the whole progress of it, I thought 
it would have been an unbecoming 
fear in me to have taken care of my 



own person, when the prince was ven- 
turing his, and the whole was now to 
be put to hazard. It is true, I being a 
Scotish man by birth, had reason to 
expect, that, if I had fallen into the 
enemies hands, I should have been sent 
to Scotland, and put to the torture there. 
And, having this in prospect, I took 
care to know no particulars of any one 
of those who corresponded with the 
prince. So that knowing nothing 
against any, even torture it self could not 
have drawn from me that by which 
any person could be hurt. . . . At 
last, on the nineteenth of October, the 
prince went aboard, and the whole 
fleet sailed out that night. But the 
next day the wind turned into the 
north, and settled in the north-west. 
At night a great storm rose. We 
wrought against it all that night, and 
the next day. But it was in vain to 
struggle any longer. And so vast a 
fleet run no small hazard, being 
obliged to keep together, and yet not to 
come too near one another. On the 
twenty-first in the afternoon the signal 
was given to go in again : and on the 
twenty second the far greater part got 
safe into port. Many ships were at 
first wanting, and were believed to be 
lost. But after a few days all came 
in. . . . 

On the first of November, O. S., we 
sailed out with the evening tide. . . . 
On the third we passed between Dover 
and Calais, and before night came in 
sight of the Isle of Wight. . . . Tor- 
bay was thought the best place for our 
great fleet to lie in : and it was resolved 
to land the army, where it could be 
best done near it ; reckoning, that being 
at such a distance from London, we 
could provide ourselves with horses, 
and put everything in order before the 
King could march his army towards us, 
and that we should lie some time at 
Exeter for the refreshing our men. I 



The Coming of William and Mary i8 







was in the ship, with the prince's other 
domestics, that went in the van of the 
whole fleet. ... A soft and happy 
gale of wind carried in the whole fleet 
. . . into Torba}'. . . . As soon as the 
prince and marshal Schomberg got to 
shore, they were furnished with such 
horses as the village of Broxholme 
could afford ; and rode up to view the 
grounds, which they found as conven- 
ient as could be imagined for the foot 
in that season. It was not a cold night : 
otherwise the soldiers, who had been 
kept warm aboard, might have suffered 
much by it. As soon as I landed, I 
made what haste I could to the place 
where the prince was ; who took me 
heartily by the hand, and asked me, if 
I would not now believe predestina- 
tion. I told him, I would never forget 
that providence of God, which had ap- 
peared so signally on this occasion. 
He WKS cheerfuller than oi"dinary. 
Yet he returned soon to his usual grav- 
ity. . . . All that belonged to us was 
so soon and so happily landed, that by 
the next day at noon we were in full 
march, and marched four miles that 
night. We had from thence twenty 
miles to Exeter. . . . The prince made 
haste to Exeter, where he stayed ten 
days, both for refreshing his troops, 
and for giving the country time to shew 
their affections. Both the clergy and 
magistrates of Exeter were very fearful, 
and very backward. The bishop and 
the dean ran away. And the clergy 
stood off, though they were sent for, 
and very gently spoke to by the prince. 
. . . Yet care was taken to protect 
them and their houses every where : so 
that no sort of violence or rudeness was 
offered to any of them. The prince 
gave me full authority to do this : and 
I took so particular a care of it, that we 
heard .of no complaints. . . . We 
stayed a week at Exeter, before any of 
the gentlemen of the country about 



came in to the prince. . . . One regi- 
ment came over in a body, and with 
them about a hundred of the other two. 
This gave us great courage ; and shewed 
us, that we had not been deceived in 
what was told us of the inclinations of 
the King's army. . . . The King 
wanted support : for his spirits sunk 
extremely. His blood was in such fer- 
mentation, that he was bleeding much 
at the nose, which returned oft upon 
him every day. He sent many spies 
over to us. They all took his money, 
and came and joined themselves to the 
prince. . . . And the body of the na- 
tion did every where discover their in- 
clinations for the prince so evidently, 
that the King saw he had nothing to 
trust to but his army. And the ill dis- 
position among them was so apparent, 
that he reckoned he could not depend 
on them. So that he lost both heart 
and head at once. 



4. Extracts from Rei-esby. 

November 32. 
The day being come and the fatal 
one, I would not go to the common 
hall [in York, of which he was gov- 
ernor. — Ed.] where the meeting was 
appointed. Nor, indeed, was I very 
able, being ill bruised by my horse 
falling upon me as I came from home ; 
but I heard that, amongst about 100 
gentlemen that met. Sir Henry Good- 
ricke spoke to this purpose, that there 
having been a great endeavour by the 
Government to bring popery into this 
kingdom of late years, and to invade 
the laws many ways, that there was no 
way to redress grievances of this and 
other natures but by a free Parliament ; 
and therefore this was the only time to 
petition the King for it. . . . When 
such a draft was finished as Sir Henry 
and his party approved of, though 
many that disliked it went away, they 



184 The Coming of William and Mary 



began to sign ; and when Mr. Wortley 
Montagu and Sir Henry liad done, 
before a third man could sign, Mr. 
Tankard runs into the hall and cries 
that the papists were risen, and had 
fired at the militia troops. At this all 
the gentlemen ran out, and those that 
were privy to the design got their 
horses, which were laid ready for 
them, as Sir Henry Goodricke, Mr. 
Wortley Montague, Mr. Tankard, My 
Lord Danby, who was ready in his 
lodging expecting this feigned alarm, 
my Lord Dumblane, his son, my Lord 
Willoughby, two Mr. Berties, my Lord 
Lumley, my Lord Horton, and several 
others, who made a party with their 
servants of a hundred horse, well 
armed and well mounted, rode up to 
the four militia troops drawn up for 
another purpose, and cried for a free 
Parliament, the Protestant religion and 
no popery. The captains of these four 
troops were Lord Fairfax, Sir Thomas 
Gower, Mr. Robinson, and Captain 
Tankard, who, being made privy to 
the design only the night before, but 
men ready enough in their tempers for 
such an action, complied, and led all 
their men to join with them. The first 
step they made was to the place where 
the guard of the standing company was 
kept, consisting of about twenty men, 
which they surprised, before I had the 
least notice or jealousy of such an at- 
tempt, nor believing it possible that 
men of such quality and estates, how- 
ever dissatisfied, would engage in a 
design so desperate, and so contrary to 
the laws of the land and the religion 
which they professed. As soon as I 
heard of it I sent for the officers and 
the guard, but found it was surprised. 
I then sent to every captain to bring his 
troop to me as the King' s governor, as 
also to the other guard of foot of the 
militia, who all denied to march or to 
obey orders. I then sent for my horses. 



and as I was preparing to go to the 
troops, hoping to regain them to the 
King's service if I appeared, Sir Henry 
Bellasis, who had commanded a regi- 
ment in Holland under the prince, and 
lurked long here in Yorkshire for his 
service, drew up a party of thirty horse 
before my door, and there prevented 
my going out, till my lord of Danby 
with his chief companions, came up to 
me. 

My lord told me that to resist was to 
no purpose ; that he and these gentle- 
men were in arms for a free Parlia- 
ment, and for the preservation of the 
Protestant religion and the government, 
as by law established, which the King 
had very near destroyed, and which the 
Prince of Orange was come to assist 
them to defend, and that he hoped I 
would join them in so good a design. 
I told him I was for a Parliament and 
the Protestant religion as well as they, 
but I was also for the King. He re- 
plied that he was so too, and therefore 
he hoped that as we agreed in princi- 
ples so we should agree in action. I 
told his lordship that, though we agreed 
in the matter, I could not agree with 
them in the manner. I did not con- 
ceive anything ought to be exacted 
from the King by any manner of force, 
and that particularly, having his Maj- 
estjr's commissioner of governor and 
for his service, I could not join with 
those that acted against his authority 
and commission, let the consequence 
be what it would. He then said he 
must imprison me. I told him I was 
naked, and my friends had relinquished 
the King's service and me, and I was 
in his power. After they had consid- 
ered together, he told me he knew me 
to be a man of honour, that my en- 
gagement not to stir nor write was as 
good a restraint upon me as a guard or 
a prison. So I was only confined upon 
honour to my room, recommending. 



The Coming of William and Mary 185 



however, to me to consider of his offer. 
After this the same day they secured 
all the gates, set strong guards upon 
them, and suffered none to go in or out. 

November 26th. 
Having made it my request to the 
Earl of Danby that I might have leave 
to be prisoner at my house in the coun- 
try, where I would engage not to act, 
but to acquiesce and abide a true pris- 
oner, he sent for me to come and dine 
with him. At my coming he told me, 
that I might eat my dinner the better 
upon the said terms, I should have 
leave to go where I pleased. 



^. Letters from an unknown Corres- 
pondent to John Ellis, Esq., atDublin. 
(In Ellis, Series II. Vol. IV. p. 157.) 

London, Nov. 33rd, 16SS. 
I had yours of the 33rd past and 
thank j'oii in the naine of the Kingdom 
for the quiet repose you promised us 
this winter ; but by the last Easterly 
wind you would find we are not to 
■enjoy such sweet sleeps as you wish us, 
for the Army 37000 strong will be able 
to offer battle by Tuesday next on Salis- 
Ijur}' Plains, and our imperial Monarch 
at the head of them, where my person 
(ainongst his faithful subjects) intend 
to stick by him. I am like to be well 
paid for my pains, but cannot at this 
instant tell the value, but it is no pait 
•of the reason of my going : though I 
can (to my sorrow) say why milk-asses 
ai"e provided for. . . . 

37. Nov. 
Yesterday between four and five of 
the clock the King came to Whitehall, 
and looks very well. We hear by some 
of his company that Prince George, the 
Dukes of Grafton . . . and very many 
others of note are gone to the Prince of 
Orange's army . . . but what is at 
least as bad news as this, is, that yes- 



terday morning when the Princess of 
Denmark's (James's daughter, later 
Qiieen Anne) women went to take her 
out of her bed they found she had with- 
drawn herself, and hath not yet been 
heard of. Nobod)' went in her com- 
pany that we hear of besides Lady 
Churchill and Mrs. Berkeley. 



6. Letter left behind by Princess 
Anne for the Queen. In Ellis, p. 166.) 

Madam : I beg your pardon if I am 
so deeply affected with the surprising 
news of the Prince's (of Denmark) 
being gone as not to be able to see you, 
but to leave this paper to express my 
humble duty to the King and yourself ; 
and to let you know that I am gone to 
absent myself to avoid the King's dis- 
pleasure, ^vhich I am not able to bear, 
either against the Prince or nij-self : and 
I shall stay at so great a distance as not 
to return before I hear the happy news 
of a reconcilement : and, as I am con- 
fident the Prince did not leave the King 
with anj' other design than to use all 
possible means for his preservation, so 
I hope you will do ine the justice to 
believe that I am incapable of follow- 
ing him for any other end. Never 
was any one in such an unhappy con- 
dition, so divided between duty and af- 
fection to a father and an husband ; and 
therefore I know not what I must do, 
but to follow one to preserve the other. 
I see the general falling off of the nobil- 
ity and gentry, who avow to have no 
other end than to prevail with the King 
to secure their religion, which they saw 
so much in danger by the violent coun- 
sels of the Priests, who, to promote 
their own religion, did not care to what 
dangers they exposed the King. 

I am fully persuaded that the Prince 
of Orange designs the King's safety 
and preservation, and hope all things 
may be composed without more blood- 
shed, by the calling of a Parliament. 



1 86 The Coming of William and Mary 



God grant an happy end to these 
troubles, that the King's reign may be 
prosperous, and that I may shortly 
meet you in perfect peace and safety ; 
till when, let me beg of you to continue 
the same favorable opinion that you 
have hitherto had of 

Your most obedient daughter 
and servant 

Anne. 

Heresby' s Alemoirs — conthmed. 
December i . 

I got to Thrybergh with my horses 
and arms without any disturbance, and 
I thank God I left York without any 
clamor or reflection upon me in the 
least in the matter of my command. 
December 3rd. 

Kingston-upon-Hull — that consider- 
able garrison, and looked upon as one 
of the strongest in England, both for 
the citadel, its situation and number of 
men — was surprised by Mr. Copley, 
lieutenant governor . . . and the sol- 
diers joining in the treachery, they 
declared for the Prince, and the Protes- 
tant religion, giving immediately notice 
to the gentlemen at York what was 
done. If such places as this revolted, 
it was no wonder that York could not 
be kept. ... In that part of York- 
shire where I lived very few gentlemen 
continued firm to the King ; nor, indeed, 
in any part of the North of England. 



7. Letter of Lord Dartmouth to 
James II. (In nth Report of Royal 
MSS. Commission, Appendix 5.) 

Dec. 3, 16SS. Aboard the 
Resolution at Spitthead. 
. . . As ... a faithful servant 
subject and councellor, I beg leave to 
advise you and to give you my humble 
opinion that sending away the Prince 
of Wales without the consent of the 
nation is at no time advisable, and 
therefore the doing it at this time es- 



pecially, and that to France, being what 
I dread will be of fatal consequence to 
your person, crowne and dignity, and 
all your people will (too probably) 
grow so much concerned at this your 
great mistrust as to throw off their 
bounden allegiance to you, which God 
forbid ; wherefore, pray. Sir, consider 
farther on this weightie point, for can 
the Prince's being sent to France have 
other prospect then the entaileing a 
perpetuall warre upon your nation and 
posterity, and giving France always a 
temptation to inolest, invade, nay haz- 
ard the conquest of England, which I 
hope in God never to see, but that we 
may have this prince of your own loines 
to rule over us. . . . Pardon me, there- 
fore. Sir, that I most earnestly implore 
you not to make me the unhappy in- 
strument of so apparent mine to your 
Majestie, and my countrey as an act of 
this kinde will be. . . , 

Letters to John Ellis — continued. 
Dec. II, 16SS. 
Dear Friend : I am now to tell you 
that the Queen and Prince of Wales 
went down the River yesterday morn- 
ing, and 'tis believed gone for France, 
and the King went this morning about 
the same time ; I hear hardly anybody 
with him. God preserve him in health. 
But here all people are wondering. 
The Prince of Orange will be in Ox- 
ford this night. The people in the city 
are searching all Roman Catholic houses 
for arms and ammunition : and this day 
they are about the Strand and other 
places. The Duke of Northumberland 
has put out all Papists out of his Troop 
of Guards, and so they say they will 
out of all the army. The King's party, 
which I hear was Colonel Butler's dra- 
goons, and the Prince's, had a skirmish. 
'Tis said about fifty of the King's were 
killed. . . . This night I was fright- 
ened with the wonderful light in the- 



The Coming of William and Mary 187 



sky, and 'twas the rabble had gotten 
the wainscot and seats of a Popish 
Chapel in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and set 
it on fire in the middle of it. Until we 
knew what it was we guessed it to be a 
great fire. Here is a very great guard, 
both militia and the army. You will 
hear very suddenly all declaring for the 
Prince of Orange. . . . My wife and 
all in St. James's send hearty service 
to you. I hope I may see you in the 
Spring. God send us a good meeting. 

Dec. 13, 168S. 
. . . On Tuesday night there was an 
alarm, occasioned by burning the Pa- 
pist's Lincoln's Inn Field's Chapel; 
they did the like to the Chapels of St. 
John's Clerkenwell, and Lime-street, 
but not easily breaking into the latter, 
cried they would down with it, were it 
as strong as Portsmouth, and, accord- 
ingly, having levelled them, they car- 
ried all the trumpery in mock proces- 
sion and triumph, with oranges on the 
tops of swords and staves, with great 
lighted candles in gilt candlesticks, thus 
victoriously passing of the Guards that 
were drawn up. And after having be- 
queathed these trinkets to the flames, 
they visited Harry Hill's Printing 
House, which they served in like man- 
ner. But, what is most ungrateful, 
their execution reaching to the Spanish 
Ambassador's house, which they plun- 
dered of all its rich furniture, plate, 
money, and three coaches, to the value 
as is computed of £20,000. . . . The 
King is said to have left a Paper behind 
him directed to the Earl of Feversham, 
for him to disband the army, which his 
Lordship read at the head of most regi- 
ments, and accordingly disbanded them, 
some with, others without their arms, 
and it is dismal to think what will be- 
come of such vast numbers of poor 
wretches, if the Prince's mercy and the 
people's compassion be not extraordi- 



nary. . . . The Prince is expected in 
town to-morrow. About two this 
morning an alarm was spread through 
city and suburbs, of Rise, Arme, Arme, 
the Irish are cutting throats ; in so much 
that in half an hour's time there was 
an appearance of above an hundred 
thousand men to have made head 
against any enterprise of that nature ; 
all the windows of the houses being 
lighted with candles from top to bot- 
tom ; but these terrors were quickly 
over, upon notice that the Prince of 
Orange's advance-guard was near the 
town. 

Lord Dartmouth to Lord Feversham. 

Dec. 14. 
I received your Lordship's and can- 
not wonder at the consternation your 
Lordship is in, for my owne heart has 
been allmost breaking. Oh God, what 
could make our master desert his king- 
doms and his friends, certainely nobody 
could be so villainous as to hurt his 
person ; it cannot be the effect of his 
owne thoughts, but of womanish or 
timorous councells. God Almighty 
protect him and direct him to happier 
measures. I am sure his owne heart 
cannot meane him better than I do. . . . 
I and my family are the miserablsst 
creatures His Majestie hath left behind. 
I am worthy nobody's thoughts, but 
tho' I am unfortunate yett I am, etc. 

Lord Dartmotith to James II. 

Dec. 17. 
It is impossible for me to express the 
griefe and anxious cares I am in for 
your Majestic, and the newes of your 
withdrawing was the greatest surprise 
of my life, for I did humbly hope my 
dutyfull supplications to your Majestic 
would with your owne considerate 
thoughtes have wholly altered your 
intentions of sending away the Prince 
of Wales, and did thinke it impossible 



1 88 The Coming of William and Mary 



•ever to enter into anybody's thoughts 
that had the least inclination of duty to 
your Majestie to give you so pernicious 
and destructive council as to go away 
yourselfe, and if your Majestie had 
been drove to such a desperate course 
(which was morally impossible, at least 
in my thoughts) as to absent yourselfe, 
Sir, could you have been with more 
honour and safety [any where than in] 
your owne fleet, who would always 
unanimously (I dare say) have pro- 
tected and defended your sacred person 
from any violence or unhallowed hands. 
But this looks like so great mistrust of 
me that many could witness it hath 
almost broke my heart. 

Your Majestie knows what condition 
you left the fleet in, and me in the most 
unsupportable calamity of my ife what 
could I do but send to the Prince of 
Orange when I found the whole nation 
did, and receive orders from the Lords 
which were communicated to the fleet 
and removed all Roman Catholic Offi- 
cers. I have had yett no retui^ne from 
the Prince of Orange, but I hope all 
will end in your Majestie' s happy re- 
establishment. Mr. Pepys will ac- 
quaint your Majestie with the state of 
the fleet. 

Letters to John Ellis. 

Dec. iS. 

. . . Last night the King went off 
from Court, and this day about three 
o'clock the Prince arrived at St. James's 
with great acclamations of joy and 
huzzas. 

The Gentleman that writeth the 
News Letters being indisposed desires 
to be excused for writing not this day. 

Dec. 20th. 

The Prince of Orange remains at St. 
James's, where no great business were 
done yesterday by reason of paying 
and receiving visits ; only a regiment 
■was sent to possess themselves of the 



Tower ; most of the Bishops about 
the town were with his Highness ; the 
Duke of Norfolk came and paid his 
devoirs. The Prince in the afternoon 
went to Whitehall, and from thence, 
in the Qiieen's barge, to Somerset 
House to compliment the Qiieen 
Dowager. In his return hearing that 
the Prince and Princess of Denmark 
were come to town, he called to see 
them at the Cock-pit. . . . 



S. Letter of James 11. to the Lords 
Spiritual and Temporal. (In the i3th 
Report, 6th Appendix, of the Royal 
MSS. Commission.) 

Rochester, Dec. 22nd, 16S8. 
My Lords . . . The world cannot 
wonder at my withdrawing myself now 
this second tyme. I might have ex- 
pected somewhat better usage after 
what I writ to the Prince of Orange by 
my Lord Feversham and the instruc- 
tions I gave him. But instead of an 
answer what was I not to expect after 
the usage I receaved by making the 
said Earl a Prisoner against the Prac- 
tice and law of nations.^ The sending 
his own guards at eleven at night to 
take possession of the Posts at White- 
hall without advertizing me in the least 
manner of it. The sending to me at 
one a 'clock after midnight, when I was 
in bed, a kind of an order by three Lords 
to be gone out of myne own Palace 
before twelve that same morning. After 
all this, how could I hone to be safe, 
so long as I was in the power of one, 
who had not only done this to me, and 
invaded my kingdomes without any just 
occasion given him for it, but that did 
by his first declaration lay the greatest 
aspersion upon me that malice could 
invent in that clause of it which con- 
cerns my son .? I appeal to all that 
know me, nay even to himself that in 
their consciences neither he nor they 
c;in beleeve me in the least capable of 



The Coming of William and Mary 189 



so unnatural a villany, nor of so little 
common sense. . . . 

What had I then to expect from one 
who by all arts hath taken such pains 
to make me appear as black as hell to 
my own people as well as to all the 
world besydes? What effect that hath 
had at home all mankind have seen by 
so general a defection in my army, as 
well as in the nation amongst all sorts 
of people. 

I was born free and desire to con- 
tinue so, and though I have ventured 
my lyfe very frankly on severall occa- 
sions, for the good and honour of my 
country . . . yet I think it not con- 
venient to expose myself to be secured 
so as not to be at liberty to effect 
it. . . . 

Letters to John Ellis. 

Dec. 39th. 
. . . The King landed on Tuesday 
morning near Marques and went post 
to Paris on Wednesday. I cannot see 
who your government will fall to ; 1 
think neither our friend nor the pert 
pretender. ... I know not what will 
be my lot, but I am vain enough to 
think in a general bustle I shall shift 
for one. You will pardon me that I 
say no more. 

Reresby s Memoirs. 

January 32nd. 
I went to Mansfield, and the next 
day went thence for London in the 
hackney coach. When I arrived I 
found London much changed. The 
guards and other parts of the army, 
which both in their persons and gal- 
lantry were an ornament to the town, 
were sent to quarter ten miles off, and 
the streets were filled with ill-look- 
ing and ill-habited Dutch and other 
strangers of the prince's army ; and yet 
the city was so pleased with their de- 
liverers that thev did not or would not 



perceive their deformity, nor the op- 
pression they lay under, which was 
much greater than what they felt from 
the English army. . . . 

Feb. 3rd. 
I saw the Duke of Somerset, the 
Earl of Burlington, the Earl of Scars- 
dale and some other lords who had all 
been active to bring in the prince, 
speak in another strain. Some said 
the thing was gone further than they 
expected, others that they never be- 
lieved the prince would contend for the 
crown ; and all were of opinion the 
crown ought to be set on the princess's 
head, and so to descend in its right 
course. The Earl of Scarsdale told 
ine the Princess of Denmark was vei"y 
sensible what a mistake she had com- 
mitted in leaving her father to join the 
prince, who was now endeavoring to 
invade her right, and to get priority of 
succession before her. 



9. Extracts from Evelyn. 

Jan. 15th, 16S8-9. 
The greate Convention [of bishops] 
being assembled the day before, falling 
upon the question about the Govern- 
ment, resolved that King James having 
by the advice of the Jesuits and other 
wicked persons endeavour' d to subvert 
the laws of Church and State, and 
deserted the kingdom, carrying away 
the seals etc. without any care for the 
management of the government, had 
by demise abdicated himself and wholly- 
vacated his right ; they did therefore 
desire the Lords concurrence to their 
vote, to place the crown on the next 
heir, the Prince of Orange, for his life, 
then to the Princesse his wife, and if 
she died without issue, to the Prin- 
cesse of Denmark, and she failing, to 
the heirs of the Prince, excluding for- 
ever all possibility of admitting a. 
Roman Catholic. 



190 The Coming of William and Mary 



Feb. 6th. 

The King's coronation day was 
ordefed not to be observed, as hitherto 
it had ben. 

The Convention of the Lords and 
Commons now declare the Prince and 
Princess of Orange King and Queene 
of England, France, and Ireland, 
(Scotland being an independent king- 
dom,) the Prince and Princesse being 
to enjoy it jointly during their lives, 
but the executive authority to be vested 
in the Prince during life, tho' all pro- 
ceedings to run in both names, and that 
it should descend to their issue, and for 
want of such, to the Princesse Anne 
of Denmark and her issue, and in want 
of such, to the heirs of the body of the 
Prince if he survive, and that failing, 
to devolve to the Parliament as they 
should think fit. . . . There was much 
contest about the King's abdication, and 
whether he had vacated the govern- 
ment. The Earle of Nottingham and 
about twenty Lords, and many Bishops 
entered their protests, but the concur- 
i-ence was greate against them. 

The Princess hourly expected. 
Forces sending to Ireland, - that king- 
dom being in greate danger by the 
Earle of Tyrconnell's army, and 
expectations from France coming to 
assist them, but that King was busy 
in invading Flanders, and encounter- 
ing the German Princes. It is likely 
that this will be the most remarkable 
summer for action, which has hap- 
pened for many years. 

Reresby. 

Feb. nth. 
. . . The oaths of allegiance and 
supremacy v\rere then desired by the 
Houses to be suppressed, and these two 
were framed to be taken in their stead : 
" I, A. B., do sincerely promise and 
swear that I will be faithful and bear 
true allegiance to their Majesties King 



William and Queen Mary. So help 
me God." For the second, thus : — 

"I, A. B., do swear that I do from 
my heart abhor, detest, and abjure as 
impious and heretical that damnable 
doctrine and position that princes 
excommunicated or deprived by the 
Pope or any authority of the see of 
Rome, may be deposed or murdered, 
by their subjects or any other whatso- 
ever ; and I do declare that no foreign 
prince, person, prelate or state hath, 
or ought to have any jurisdiction, 
power, superiority, pre-eminence or 
authority, ecclesiastical or civil, within 
this realm. So help me God." 

April nth was the day of the 
coronation of King William and Queen 
Mary, performed with great splen- 
dor according to the usual ceremo- 
nies. The procession to the abbey 
of Westminster was very regular, but 
not attended by so many of the nobility 
as when the two last kings were 
crowned. The House of Commons 
were taken great care of in this solem- 
nity, had a side of Westminster Hall 
prepared for them to see it, another 
place in the abbey to see their Majesties 
crowned, and several tables prepared 
and covered with all sorts of meat, 
where they dined by themselves. Only 
some friends were admitted amongst 
them, and I amongst others, which 
gave ine a good opportunity to see and 
observe all. The Bishop of London 
crowned the King and Queen, assisted 
by the Bishop of Salisbury (the late 
Dr. Burnet) , who preached the Coro- 
nation sermon, and by two others. 

May 5th. 
. . . The next day I was to go to 
Hampton Court to meet his lordship, 
to present me to the King before I 
went into the countr}' ; and he repeated 
his promises of doing for me what he 
could, but said it was discretion to let 



The Coming of William and Mary 191 



two or three months pass before I 
pressed the thing too much, to see 
what became of things. 

(On the I2th of May, Sir John 
Reresby died.) 

Evelyn. 

Feb. 2 1 St, 16SS-9. 

Dr. Burnett preach' d at St. James's 
on the obligation to walk worthy of 
God's particular and signal deliverance 
of the Nation and Church. 

I saw the 9ieiv ^ueene and King 
proclaim' d the very next day after her 
coming to Whitehall, Wednesday 13 
Feb., with greate acclamation and gen- 
erall good reception. Bonfires, bells, 
guns, etc. It was believ'd that both, 
especially the Princesse, would have 
shew'd some (seeming) reluctance at 
least, of assuming her father's Crown, 
and made some apology, testitying by 
her regret that he should by his mis- 
management necessitate the Nation to 
so extraordinary a proceeding, which, 
would have shew'd very handsomely 
to the world, and according to the 
character given of her piety ; conso- 
nant also to her husband's first declara- 
tion, that there was no intention of 
deposing tlie King, but of succouring 
the Nation ; but nothing of all this 
appear' d; she came into Whitehall 
laughing and jolly, as to a wedding, 
so as to seem quite transported. She 
rose early the next morning, and in her 
undresse, as it was reported, before her 
women were up, went about from 
roome to roome to see the convenience 
of White-hall ; lay in the same bed 
and apartment where the late Qiieene 
la}', and within a night or two sate 
downe to play at basset, as the Queene, 
her predecessor, used to do. She 
smil'd upon and talk'd to every body, 
so that no change seem'd to have taken 
place at Court since her last going 
away, save that infinite crowds of peo- 
ple throng' d to see her, and that she 



went to our prayers. This carriage 
was censur'd by many. She seems to 
be of a good nature, and that she takes 
nothing to heart ; whilst the Prince 
her husband has a thoughtful counte- 
nance, is wonderfull serious and silent, 
and seems to treat all persons alike 
gravely, and to be very intent on af- 
faires : Holland, Ireland and France 
calling for his care. 

Divers Bishops and Noblemen are 
not at all satisfied with this so sudden 
assumption of the Crown, without any 
previous sending, and offering some 
conditions to the absent King ; or, on 
his not returning, or not assenting to 
those conditions, to have proclaim'd 
him Regent ; but the major part of 
both Houses prevail' d to make them 
King and Qiieene immediately, and a 
Crowne v\'as tempting. 

Extract from Burnet. 

16S8. 
All things were now made ready for 
filling the throne. And the very night 
before it was to be done, the princess 
arrived safely. It had been given out, 
that she was not well pleased with the 
late transaction, both with relation to 
her father, and to the present settle- 
ment. Upon which the prince wrote 
to her, that it was necessary she should 
appear at first so cheerful, that nobody 
might be discouraged by her looks, or 
be led to apprehend that she was un- 
easy by reason of what had been done. 
This made her put on a great air of 
gaiety when she came to Whitehall, and, 
as may be imagined, had great crowds 
of all sorts coming to wait on her. I 
confess, I was one of those that cen- 
sured this in my thoughts. I thought 
a little more seriousness had done as 
well, when she came into her father's 
palace, and was to be set on his throne 
next day. I had never seen the least 
indecency in any part of her deport- 



192 The Coming of William and Mary 



ment before : which made this appear 
to me so extraordinary, that some days 
after I took the liberty to ask her, how 
it came that what she saw in so sad a 
revohition, as to her father's person, 
made not a greater impression on her. 
She took this freedom with her usvial 
goodness. And she assured me, she 



felt the sense of it very lively upon her 
thoughts. But she told me, that the 
letters which had been writ to her had 
obliged her to put on a cheerfulness, in 
which she might perhaps go too far, 
because she was obeying directions, 
and acting a part which was not very 
natural to her. 



GROUP XXI. 



THE STUARTS IN EXILE. 



I. Letters of Madame de Sevigne. 
Vol. 7. (Edition in English, London, 
18 II. The passages in brackets fro?n 
the latest French Edition.^ 

Paris, Nov. 8, 1688. 

This is the day, my dear child, on 
which you are to begin your journey ; 
we follow you step by step. . . . The 
chevalier is much better. It is painful 
to reflect that the weather which agrees 
with him, is precisely what may de- 
throne the King of England ; whereas 
he suffered dreadfully a few days ago, 
when the wind and tempests were dis- 
persing the fleet of the prince of 
Orange : he is unhappy at not being 
able to make his health accord with the 
good of Europe ; for the sentiment of 
joy is universal at the failure of the 
prince, whose wife is a perfect Tullia : 
ah, how boldly would she drive over 
the body of her father ! She has em- 
powered her husband to take possession 
of the kingdom of England, of which 
she calls herself the heiress ; and if her 
husband is killed, for her imagination 
is not very delicate, M. de Schomberg 
is to take possession of it for herself. 
What say you to a hero, who so sadly 
disgraces the close of a glorious life .? 
He saw the admiral's ship sink in 
which he was to have embarked ; and 
as the prince and he were the last in 
following the fleet, which was under 
weigh in the finest weather po.sslble. 



they wei-e obliged,, by a tremendous 
storm that suddenly arose, to return to 
port, the prince being very much indis- 
posed with his asthma, and M. de 
Schomberg as much vexed. Only 
twenty-six sail returned with them : the 
rest were all dispersed, some towards 
Norway, others towards Boulogne. 
. . . A vessel armed e«_y?M^e, in which 
were nine hundred men, sunk in sight 
of the prince of Orange. ( ?) In short, 
the hand of God is visible on this fleet : 
many ships may return, but it will be 
long before they will be able to do any 
mischief. . . . This is certainly a 
stroke of Providence. I need not say 
so much to you of this great news, for 
the papers are full of it ; but as we are 
so too, and as we can talk of nothing 
else, it flows naturally from my pen. 

Paris, Jan. 10, 16S9. 
The abbe Tetu is in an alarming 
way for want of sleep. . . . We want 
him to go to Versailles to see the king 
and queen of England, and the prince 
of Wales. Can there be a grander 
spectacle, or one more capable of 
affording the highest interest? It 
appears that the prince of Orange 
favoured the king's flight. The king 
was sent to Exeter, where it was his 
intention to go ; the front of his house 
was well guarded, and all the back- 
doors left open. The prince was not 




ARY BEATRIX QlTEEN OF ^E"NGLA^D 

8 C O r S . A N D f \i A N t ' 1': A -N J) 1 R K 1. A IS D 

BoRM l>RrNi't:« or AVODKNV. 



The Stuarts in Exile 



193 



inclined to sacrifice his father-in-law ; 
he remains in London in the place of 
the king, without taking upon himself 
the title, being only desirous of restor- 
ing what he thinks the true religion, 
and supporting the laws of the country, 
without spilling a drop of blood : this 
is precisely the reverse of what we 
thought of him ; we see him in a very 
different point of view. Our king 
however acts in a manner almost 
divine with respect to their Britannic 
majesties ; for is it not being the repre- 
sentative of the Almighty, to support a 
king banished, betrayed, and aban- 
doned ? The noble ambition of our 
sovereign is gratified by acting this 
part ; he went to meet the queen, with 
all his household, and a hundred 
coaches and six. When he perceived 
the prince of Wales's carriage, he 
alighted and [would not let this little 
child, who is beautiful as an angel, 
they say, dismount ; he] affectionately 
embraced him ; he then ran to the 
queen, who was by this time alighted ; 
he saluted her, talked with her some 
time, placed her at his right hand in 
his carriage, and presented the dauphin 
and Monsieur to her, who were also in 
the carriage, and conducted her to St. 
Germain, where she found everything 
prepared for her like a queen, all sorts 
of apparel, and a rich casket containing 
six thousand louis-d'ors. The king of 
England Avas expected the next day at 
St. Germain, where the king waited 
for him ; he arrived late [because he 
came from Versailles] : his majesty 
went to the end of the guard-room to 
meet him ; the king of England made 
an inclination, as if to embrace his 
knees, but the king prevented him and 
embraced him three or four times very 
cordially. They talked together in a 
low voice for nearly a quarter of an 
hour ; the king presented the dauphin 
and Monsieur to him, the princes of 



the blood, and cardinal de Bonzi. He 
conducted him to the queen's apart- 
ment, who could scarcely refrain from 
tears ; after a conversation of a few 
minutes his majesty led them to the 
apartment of the prince of Wales, 
where they again conversed for some 
time, and he then Avithdrew, not choos- 
ing to be attended back, saying to the 
king, "This is your house; when I 
come you will do the honours of it, and 
I will do the honours of mine when 
you come to Versailles." The next 
da}', which was yesterday, the dau- 
phinness went there with all the 
court. [I know not how they will 
have managed with the chairs for the 
princesses ; they had them at the wed- 
ding of the Qiieen of Spain] ; and the 
queen-mother of England was treated ■ 
as a daughter of France ; I shall [find 
out and] send you these particulars. 
His majesty sent the king of England 
ten thousand louis-d'ors, the latter 
looks old and fatigued ; the queen is 
thin, with fine black eyes swelled with 
weeping; a fine complexion but rather 
pale ; a large mouth, beautiful teeth, a 
fine figure, and a great share of sense ; 
no wonder if with all these she pleases 
every one who beholds her. Here 
[my sweet one] is matter for general 
conversation that will not soon be 
exhausted. . . . 

Jan. 1 2th, 1689. 
. . . To come to the king and queen 
of England. It is so extraordinary to 
have this court here, that it is the con- 
stant subject of conversation. The 
regulation of rank and precedency is 
to be attended to, in order to render 
life agreeable to those who are so un- 
likely to be restored. This the king 
said the other day, adding, that the 
English king was the best man in the 
world; that he should hunt with him; 
that he should come to Marli and Tri- 
anon ; and that the courtiers should 



194 



The Stuarts in Exile 



habituate themselves to him. The 
king ot England does not give his 
hand to the dauphin, and does not 
reconduct him. The queen has not 
kissed Monsieur, who is offended at 
this; she said to the king, "Tell me 
what you wish me to do ; if you would 
have me follow the French fashion, I 
will salute whom you please ; but it is 
not the custom in England to salute 
any one." She paid a visit to the 
dauphiness, who was ill, and who re- 
ceived her in bed. No one sits in 
England ; I believe the duchesses will 
follow the French fashion, and behave 
to her as they did to her mother-in-law 
[Henrietta Maria]. We are greatly 
taken up with this new court. . . . 
Jan. 14th, 16S9. 
. . . Madame de Maintenon is much 
pleased with the comedy which she has 
made her young ladies of St. Cyr 
perform ; it will be a very fine piece 
according to report. She has paid a 
visit to the Qiieen of England, who, 
having made her wait a moment, said 
she was very sorry she had lost any 
time in seeing and conversing with 
her, and received her extremely well. 
Every one is pleased with this queen ; 
she has an excellent understanding. 
She said to the king, on seeing him 
caress the prince of Wales, who is a 
lovely child, " I formerly envied the 
happiness of my son, in not feeling his 
misfortunes; but I now pity him, for 
being insensible to your majesty's ca- 
resses and kindness." All she says is 
proper and to the purpose ; but this is 
not the case with her husband : he has 
a great share of courage, but his un- 
derstanding is not above the common 
standard ; he relates what has passed 
in England with an insensibility that 
excites the same feeling for himself. 
He is a good man [" what a good 
man," said the Archbishop of Rheims ; 
"he has given up three kingdoms for 



one mass." — Ed,], and partakes of all 
the amusements of Versailles. The 
dauphiness does not intend to visit this 
queen ; she wants her right-hand seat 
and chair of state, which cannot be ; 
she will therefore be always in bed, 
when the queen visits her. Madame 
is to have an arm-chair upon the left 
hand, and the princesses of the blood 
are to visit with her ; before whom 
they have tabourets only. The duch- 
esses will be upon the same footing 
as at the dauphiness's ; this is settled. 
The king, knowing that a king of 
France gave a prince of Wales only 
a chair on the left hand, chooses that 
the king of England should treat the 
dauphin in the same manner, and pre- 
cede him. He is to receive Monsieur 
without chair or ceremony. The queen 
has saluted him, saying to our sover- 
eign what I told you. It is not yet 
certain that M. de Schomberg is to 
succeed the prince of Orange in Hol- 
land. This is a year of falsehoods. . . . 
Jan. 17, 1689. 
This English court is quite estab- 
lished at St. Germain. They would 
not accept more than 15,000 livres a 
month, and have regulated their court 
upon that foundation. The queen is 
very much liked ; our king converses 
very pleasantly ^vith her ; she has good 
sense without affectation. The king 
wished the dauphiness to pay her the 
first visit, but she was always so con- 
venientl)' indisposed, that this queen 
paid her a visit three days ago, ad- 
mirabl}^ dressed ; a black velvet robe, 
a beautiful petticoat, her hair tastefully 
disposed, a figure like the princess de 
Conti's, and great dignity of manner. 
The king received her as she alighted ; 
she went first into his apartment where 
she had a chair below the king's; here 
she remained half an hour ; he then 
conducted her to the dauphiness, who 
was up ; this occasioned a little sur- 



The Stuarts In Exile 



195 



prise; the queen said to her, "I 
■expected to have found you in bed, 
madam." "I wished to rise, madam," 
replied the dauphiness, "to receive the 
honour your majesty does me." The 
king left them, as the dauphiness has 
no chair in his presence. The queen 
took her place, with the dauphiness on 
her right hand, Madame on her left, 
and there were three other chaii's for 
the young princes. They conversed 
together for upwards of half an hour ; 
several duchesses were present, and the 
court was very numerous. At length 
she retired ; the king gave orders to 
"be informed of it, and handed her back 
to her carriage. I do not know how 
far the dauphiness went with her, but 
I shall hear. The king, upon his re- 
turn, highly praised the queen ; he 
said, " This is how a queen ought to 
be, both in person and mind, holding 
her court with dignity." He admired 
her courage in misfortunes, and her 
affection for her husband ; for it is 
certain, that she loves him, as that hate- 
ful woman, madame de R., told you. 
Some of our ladies, who wished to 
assume the airs of princesses, did not 
kiss the queen's robe, some of the 
duchesses wished to avoid it also ; but 
the king was displeased at this, and 
they now pay her homage. Madame 
•de Chaulnes has been informed of these 
particulars, but has not yet performed 
this duty. She left the marquis at 
Versailles, the young gentleman being 
very highly amused there; he has in- 
formed his uncle that he should go 
to-day to the ballet. . . . 

Jan. 26. 
I am . . . truly of opinion, that the 
Icing and queen of England are better 
off at St. Germain, than in their perfidi- 
ous kingdom. The king of England 
calls INI. de Lauzun his governor ; but 
he governs no one else, and is not much 
in favour. Their majesties have only 



accepted of what the king would have 
given them, fifty thousand livres a 
month, and will not live like sovereigns ; 
many English are come over to them, or 
thev would not have accepted so much ; 
in short, the}' wish to pursue a plan that 
mav last. The}' have reminded me of 
mv dear romances; but a little intrigue 
is wanting. 

Jan. 31, 16S9. 

Madame de Chaulnes has seen the 
queen of England, with whom she is 
greatly pleased ; the little prince was 
dressed like a puppet ; he is handsome 
and lively, and is continually dancing in 
his nurse's arms: these are the truly 
happy days of infancy. The histories 
which we read over again on account of 
this event, are replete with the perfidy 
of the people. The prince of Orange is 
not quite at his ease in London, there 
being three parties : that of the king 
and the bishops which is very weak ; 
that of the prince of Orange, which is 
very strong ; and a third consisting of 
republicans and non-conformists. All 
Ireland is in the interest of the king ; he 
would have done well to have escaped 
thither : he is not so much liked as the 
queen. He calls M. de Lauzun his 
master ; the master stands in great need 
of one himself. . . . 

Feb. 2nd, 1689. 

. . . The queen of England seems 
more inclined, if it pleased God, to 
reign in the beautiful kingdom of Eng- 
land, where the court is numerous and 
splendid, than to be at St. Germain, 
though overwhelmed with the heroic 
bounties of our monarch. As to the 
king of England, he seems contented 
there, and it is for that reason he is 
there. 

Extract from the JMemoirs of Jarnes 
II. (In Macpherson, Original Papers, 
Vol. I. p 357.) 

I thank thee O God, for all the 
favours which thou hast done me ; and 



196 



The Stuarts in Exile 



particularly for having saved me from 
the hands of the rebellious parricides, 
■who put to death the King, my father. 
. . . For having re-established the King 
my brother in his kingdoms, and for 
having recovered me from the small- 
pox, which some j-ears before had 
carried off some of the royal family. 
For having given me such good health 
and patience to suffer so many injuries, 
and for having preserved me till now 
from all the snares of my enemies. For 
having touched my heart with a true 
sense of my past sins and a regret for 
them ; a favour which I beseech God to 
continue to me ; and to augment in me 
day by day a detestation of my faults. 

And above all I thank God for having 
opened my eyes and converted me to the 
true church. 

I humbly acknowledge that I have 
justly deserved all the afflictions and 
mortifications which it hath pleased 
God to send upon me ; and that I would 
deserve still greater, considering the 
magnitude and multitude of my sins. 

j\Iadaiiie de Sevigne. 

Feb. 33, 1689. 

. . . That madman, the prince of 
Orange, is elected king, and has been 
crowned : the contrary report prevailed 
a week ago ; but thus it is with the 
English. 

Feb. 25, 16S9. 

. . . The King of England [James] 
is going over to Ireland ; this, at least, 
is the report : but I vouch for nothing 
this year ; it is the harvest of lies. . . . 

Feb. 28. 
... It is certain that the king of 
England set out this morning for Ire- 
land, where he is expected with im- 
patience : he will be better there than 
here. He will traverse Britany with 
the swiftness of lightning ; and go 
straight to Brest, where he will find 



marshal d'Estrees, and ships and frigates 
ready : he takes with him 50,000 crowns. 
The King has given him sufficient arms 
for 10,000 men. As his Britannic 
majesty took leave, he said with a smile, 
"That arms for himself were the only 
things that had been forgotten:" our 
king gave him his : the heroes of 
romance never did anything more gal- 
lant than this action. What will not 
this brave but unhappy king do, with 
arms that have ever been victorious? 
Behold him then with the casque and 
cuirass of Rinoldo and Amadis, and all 
our most celebrated knights errant ; I 
will not say of Hector, for he was un- 
fortunate. There is not an offer that 
can be suggested, that our king has not 
made him ; generosity and magnanimity 
have been carried to their height. M. 
d'Avaux is to go with him ; he set out 
two days ago. You will ask why M. 
de Barillon was not the person. The 
reason is, that M. d'Avaux, being per- 
fectly acquainted with the affairs of 
Holland, will be more useful than he 
who is acquainted only with those of 
England. The queen has shut herself 
up at Poissi with her son : she will be 
near the king, and the fountain-head of 
intelligence. She is overwhelmed with 
grief, and suffers from a nephritic com- 
plaint, that makes it feared she has the 
stone : she is i"eally to be pitied. You 
see, my dear child, it is the rage of talk- 
ing, that makes me write all this ; the 
chevalier and the gazette will give you 
better information than I can do. . . . 
The King of England yesterday in- 
vested M. de Lauzun with the order of 
the garter ; a kind of oath was read, 
which constitutes the ceremony ; the 
king placed his collar on the other side 
of ours, and a St. George, that he had 
from the late King his father, which is 
set with diamonds, and worth at least 
10,000 crowns. While the King of 
England was at Mademoiselle's, M. de 



The Stuarts in Exile 



197 



Lauzun went to jMadame de la Fayette's 
with this ornament ; Madame de la 
Fayette gazed at the blue ribbon, and 
as she knew he had not that of France, 
she did not comprehend this masquer- 
ade ; she was silent upon the subject 
and so was he. At length he began to 
laugh, and told her what had passed. 
The King of England, must, however, 
think himself obliged to him, since he 
treats him so well. . . . The Irish busi- 
ness goes on admirably, and so com- 
pletely occupies the prince of Orange, 
that there is nothing to fear upon our 
coasts. . . . 

March 2, 16S9. 
. . . The chevalier will inform j'ou 
what our King said to the King of 
England at his taking leave : " Sir, it is 
with grief I see you depart ; yet I never 
wish to see you again : but if you 
i-eturn, be assured you will find me the 
same as you leave me." Could any- 
thing better have been said ? He has 
loaded him with everything great and 
small ; two millions of money, ships, 
frigates, troops, officers, and M. d' 
Avaux, who makes, upon the occasion, 
one of the most brilliant figures in the 
world. ... I now come to the minu- 
tiae, such as toilets, camp-beds, services 
of plate, plain and gilt, arms for his 
person, which are the King's ; arms for 
the troops in Ireland, and those who go 
with him, who are very numerous ; in 
short, generosity, magnificence, and 
magnanimity, were never so strikingly 
displayed as upon this occasion. The 
King is not willing that the queen 
should go to Poissi ; she will see very 
little company ; but the King will take 
care of her, and she will receive news 
without intermission. The parting of 
the King and queen of England rent 
the hearts of all the spectators; nothing 
but tears, sighs, lamentations, and 
swoonings were to be seen or heard. 



which is very easy to be comprehended. 
Such is his destiny ; he has a good 
cause ; he is the protector of the true 
religion, and his courage will allow him 
no other alternative than conquest or 
death. . . . M. d 'Avaux . . . has the 
care of the troops and the finances ; in 
short, he is the soul of the undertaking, 
and the man in whom all confidence is 
placed. 

March 4, 16S9. 
M. de Lauzun has refused, it is said, 
to go to Ireland with the King of Eng- 
land, but he has hinted, that he might 
be induced to go, if he were created a 
duke. ... I doubt whether this sort 
bargaining may not be detrimental to 
M. de Lauzun. ... 

March 30. 
. . . We hear that the King of Ene- 
land is arrived in Ireland, where he was 
received with transport. The prince 
of Orange is so much afflicted with an 
asthma, that all the troops he raises 
desert, thinking he is going to die : 
seven regiments have left him to go 
into Scotland. For my part, I am per- 
suaded that the King of England, with 
God's assistance, will overcome all his 
enemies, and dispel all the clouds that 
seem ready to burst upon us. 



Burnet. 



1689. 



. . . One accident happened this 
summer, of a pretty extraordinary na- 
ture, that deserves to be remembered. 
A fisherman, between Lambeth and 
Vauxhall, was drawing a net pretty 
close to the channel ; and a great 
weight was, not without some diffi- 
culty, drawn to the shore, which, when 
taken up, was found to be the great 
seal of England. King James had 
called for it from the Lord Jefferies, 
the night before he went away, as in- 
tending to make a secret use of it, for 
pardons or grants. But it seems, when 



198 



The Stuarts In Exile 



he went awa}', he thought either that 
the bulk or weight of it made it incon- 
venient to be carried off, or that it was 
to be hereafter of no more use to him : 
and therefore, that it might not be made 
use of against him, he threw it into the 
Thames. The fisherman was well re- 
warded, when he brought the great seal 
to the King : and by his order it was 
broke. 

Extract f^-om LiittrelV s Diarv- 
(London, 1S59. Vol. II. p. 71.) 

1690. 

. . . The letters from Ireland bring, 
that our army upon the ist instant forced 
the passages of the river [the Boyne] and 
[has] given the enemy [James II.] an 
entire defeat, killing above 3,000 Irish, 
with little losse on our side, considering 
the great disadvantage our men had in 
passing the river, the enemy standing 
upon a hill to receive our men as they 
came out of the water. . . . King 
James did not engage at all in this ac- 
tion (as King William did, who was up 
and down in the hottest of the action, 
to encourage his men and urge them 
forward by his own example, not to be 
affraid to venture where he thought fitt 
to expose himself,) but was upon a hill 
at some distance ; and when he saw how 
it went, he retired to Dublin . . . de- 
claring he would never trust an Irish 
army more. 

July 1 1. 

. . . Tis said when King James went 
away, he bid his army to shift for them- 
selves and make the best terms they 
could. 

3. Letter of Matthew Prior to the 
Earl of Halifax. (In Ellis. Original 
Letters of Eminent Literary Men. 
Camden Society. London, 1S43.) 

Paris, 30-20 August, 169S. 
My good Lord and Master, I have 
written one letter to you to congratu- 
late you on your honours, one to con- 



dole with you, another to dunn you,, 
and here is a fourth to thank you. . . . 

The King of Spain's health is the 
weatherglass upon which all our poli- 
ticians look ; as that rises or falls we 
look pleasant or uneas}'. I am glad to 
tell you that I think France is as much 
afraid he should dye as we can be. , . . 

This court is gone to see their mon- 
arch a cock-horse at Compeigne ; I fol- 
low as soon as my English naggs arrive 
and I shall a little have settled my Lord 
Jersey. I faced old James and all his 
court the other day at St. Cloud ; vive 
Giiillaume I You never saw such a 
strange figure as the old bully is, lean, 
worn and riv'led, not unlike Neale the 
projectour ; the Queen looks veiy mel- 
ancholy, but otherwise well enough ; 
their equipages are all very ragged and 
contemptible. 

Adieu, Master; nobody respects the 
Chancellor of the Exchequer more or 
loves dear Mr. Montagu better than his 
old friend and obliged humble servant, 

Mat. 



3. Letters of Mr. Vernon to the Duke 
of Shrewsbury. (In Letters illustrative 
of the Reign of William III. Ed. G. 
P.R.James. London, 1S41. Vol. 11. 
p. 197.) 

Oct. 15, 169S. 

I had a letter from Prior yesterday. 
. . . He hears that King James and his 
Queen are highly caressed at Fontain- 
bleau ; that the chief court was made to 
Qiieen Mary, every body being at her 
toilet in the morning ; that the King of 
France comes thither to lead her to 
chapel ; that at meals the Qiieen is 
placed between the two Kings at the 
upper end of the table, and equal 
marks of distinction and sovereignty are 
paid to all three, and a boire four le 
Roi d' Aiigleterre, ou, four la Reine, 
is spoken out as loud, and with as much 
ceremony, as for the King of France. 




^'^Cfi-tii^ a J'arij- cua:- Thiri 



■2'7V Lt rtir iia Plofrc a If'/iiiny/' <- '' f^:- 



The Stuarts in Exile 



199 



Oct. 22nd. 
I believe I shall take up a non-juring 
parson to-daj', who deals in policies of 
insurance upon King James's restora- 
tion. He pays a guinea to receive fifty, 
if King James, or his son, be restored 
on the throne by Michaelmas next. 



4. The Death of James II., by an 
anonymous contemporary. (In Mac- 
pherson. Original Papers, Vol. I. p. 
5S9.) 1 701 A. D. 

The King publickly, and by name, 
forgave all his enemies. He had often 
declared, that he was more beholden to 
the prince of Orange than to all the 
world besides. The King of France 
came to wait upon him. He lighted at 
the castle gate, as others did, to prevent 
the noise of coaches from disturbing 
him. Just before he expired, he men- 
tioned by name, with a loud voice, the 
prince of Orange, the princess of Den- 
mark, and the Emperor; and said he 
wished they might be aquainted that he 
forgave them all. The King of France, 
the third time he came to see the King, 
declared he would own the prince of 
Wales King of England. He had hesi- 
tated long. The dauphin, the duke of 
Burgundy, and all the princes thought 
it unbecoming the dignity of the crown 
of France, not to own the title of the 
prince of Wales. He first acquainted 
the Qiieen, then the Prince, of his reso- 
lution. He came, at last, to the King's 
bed-side. "Sir," said he, "I am 
come to see how 3'our Majest}' finds 
yourself to-day." But the King not 
hearing, made no reply. Upon which, 
one of the servants telling him, that the 
King of France was there, he rouzed 
himself and said, "Where is he.'" 
Upon which the King of France re- 
plied, " Sir, I am here, and I am come 
to see how you do.'"' The King 
thanked him for all his favours. His 
most Christian ^lajesty replied, " Sir, 



what I have done is but a small matter, 
I have something to acquaint you with 
of greater consequence." The King's 
servants began to retire. " Let nobody 
withdraw," said the King of France. 
" I am come. Sir, to acquaint you, that 
whenever it shall please God to call 
your Majesty out of this world, I w'ill 
take your family into my protection, 
and will treat your son, the prince of 
Wales, in the same manner I have 
treated you, and acknowledge him, as 
he then will be, King of England." 
All that were present, whether French 
or English, burst at once into tears, ex- 
pressive of a mixture of joy and grief. 
Some threw themselves at his most 
Christian Majesty's feet. All seemed so 
much affected, that the King of France 
himself burst into tears. The King of 
England was endeavouring to say some- 
thing. But the confused noise was so 
great, and he so weak, that he could 
not be heard. The King of France 
went away. But as he passed, he 
called the officer of the guard, and de- 
sired him to treat the prince of Wales 
as King, whenever his father should 
expire. 

The next day, the King was some- 
thing better. The prince of Wales 
was permitted to see him, which he 
was not often suffered to do ; it being 
observed, that when he saw him, it 
raised such a commotion in him, as 
was thought to do him harm. When 
he came into the room, the King 
stretching forth his arms to embrace 
him, said "I have not seen you since 
his most Christian Majesty was here, 
and promised to own you when I should 
be dead. I have sent my lord Middle- 
ton to Marly, to thank him for it." 
He was taken next day with continual 
convulsions and shaking in his hands; 
and, on the day following, being the 
sixteenth of September, he expired. 



200 



The Stuarts in Exile 



5. Letter of the Pretender to Qiieen 
Anne. (Macpherson, Original Papers, 
Vol. II. p. 333.) 

May, 171 1. 

Madam : The violence and ambition 
of the enemies of our family, and of the 
monarchy, have too long kept at dis- 
tance those who, by all the obligations 
of nature and duty, ought to be more 
firmly united ; and have hindered us 
from the proper means and endeavours 
of a better understanding between us, 
which could not fail to produce the 
most happy effects to ourselves, to our 
family and to our bleeding country. 

But whatever the success may be, I 
have resolved now to break through all 
reserve, and to be the first in an 
endeavour so just and necessary. The 
natural affection I bear you, and that 
the King our father had for you, till 
his last breath, the consideration of our 
mutual interest, honor and safety, and 
the duty I owe to God and my country, 
are the true motives that persuade me 
to write to you, and to do all that is 
possible for me to come to a perfect 
union with you. 

And you may be assured. Madam, 
that though I can never abandon, but 
with my life, my own just right, which 
you know is unalterably settled by the 
most fundamental laws of the land : 
yet I am most desirous rather to owe 
to you, than to any living, the recovery 
of it. It is for yourself that a work so 
just and glorious is reserved. The 
voice of God and nature calls you to it ; 
the promises you made to the King our 
father enjoin it ; the preservation of 
our family, the preventing of unnatural 
wars require it ; and the public good 
and welfare of our country recommend 
it to you, to rescue it from present and 
future evils ; which must, to the latest 
posterity, involve the nation in blood 
and confusion, till the succession be 
again settled in the riaht line. 



I am satisfied. Madam, that if you 
will be guided by vour own inclina- 
tions you will readily comply with so 
just and fair a proposal as to prefer 
your own brother, the last male of our 
name, to the duchess of Hanover, the 
remotest relation we have, whose 
friendship you have no reason to rely 
on, or be fond of, who will leave the 
government to foreigners of another 
language, of another interest, and who, 
by the general naturalization, may 
bring over crowds of his countrymen 
to supply the defect of his right, and 
enslave the nation. '. . . 

And now. Madam, as you tender 
your own honour and happiness, the 
preservation and re-establishment of 
our ancient royal family, the safety and 
welfare of a brave people, who are 
almost sinking under present weights, 
and have reason to fear greater ; who 
have no reason to complain of me, and 
whom I must still, and do love as my 
own : I conjure you to meet me in 
this fi'iendly way of composing our 
difference, by which only we can hope 
for those good effects which will make 
us both happy ; yourself more glorious 
than all the other parts of your life, 
and your memory dear to all posterity. 



6. Letter from a warm Adherent to 
one of the Pretender's Suite. (Mac- 
pherson II. 304.) 

April 33, 1713. 

If I did not know the King's affairs 
perfectly well, your fears would have 
cast me to the gates of death. . . . 
All his friends are earnest for his 
changing his lodgings, and rejoice he 
is to leave France. I confess it strikes 
a damp sometimes upon me ; but I 
must submit to his lawyers, who know 
best what he is to do. . . . O ! what 
is my dear angel doing at this time? 
He represents himself always to me as 
my blessed saviour. Men and angels 



The Stuarts in Exile 



20I 



cannot tell the heart I bear to him. I 
hope God will pity me and preserve 
him. ... I hope you are to go with 
him to his new house, and praj- God 
for it : it will put me out of all my 
senses, if I do not often hear of you 
and from him. And, to be sure, 
iiobod_v will be so kind and so careful 
as I no\v find you are. I thank you 
ten thousand times. For God's sake 
continue it to me. Is he not my all on 
earth ? It is like a mill-stone about my 
neck to keep me from writing him. . . . 
I have no eyes in my head, but that 
which looks like red blood. . . . When 
I had yours of the 3rd, I was for com- 
ing to see him, and roared and cried I 
would do it . . . but E. M-r. [the Earl 
of Mar] told me, the world could not 
save my life, I would die before I was 
two days journey. I said if I died 
coming back I did not care, but I was 
sure I would not die in the going ; the 
joy to see my dear angel would sup- 
port me. . . . 

J. M. 

7. Letter of the Pretender to Louis 
XIV. (Macpherson II. p. 3S5.) 

Chalons-sur-Marne, Feb. iS, 1713. 

Sire : What terms shall I employ 
to express my gratitude to youi 
Majest}", before I leave the asylum 
which you have been pleased to grant 
me, almost ever since I was born, and 
which you do not permit me to leave, 
but in order to procure for me another 
more suitable, in the present state of 
your affairs and of my own .'' Words 
fail me, to express how my heart is 
penetrated, by the remembrance of 
your Majesty's beneficence and former 
kindness towards me. The care you 
are now pleased to take of me, and of 
whatever concerns me, crowns the 
whole, and encourages me, in the sad 
situation I am in, from the confidence 
I have in a generositv that has no 



example, for its continuance. . . . 
When I have assured your Majesty of 
my most sincere and fervent wishes for 
your prosperity and happiness, I have 
nothing to say, but to conjure your 
Majesty to be thoroughly persuaded, 
that you will always find in me the 
respect, attachment, and, if I can pre- 
sume to say, the tenderness of a son, a 
will always ready, not onlv to follow, 
but even to go before in all things, 
during the time of my exile ; and if I 
shall ever see myself restored to my 
dominions, a faithful allv, who will 
make it his glory and his happiness to 
concur with tlie first designs of a King, 
who does honour to royalty. [The 
dread of this "concurrence" was the 
chief ground for keeping the Pretender 
out. — Ed.] 

J/, ^[arthiez to M. RobetJion. 
(Macpherson II. p. 5S3.) 

Paris, March 33, 1714. 

One of my intimate friends, who 
was, about two months last autumn, 
with the Chevalier de St. George [the 
Pretender] arrived here four da3-s ago. 
He speaks very favourably of him. 
The prince spoke to him with great 
confidence, and did not conceal from 
him the good understanding between 
him and the Qiieen. He has news of 
her frequently from the English who 
come and return for that purpose. He 
reckons that all the Scots are undoubt- 
edly in his interest. ... 

The Chevalier told the person in 
question what was said to him by a 
quaker, who was much spoke of some 
time ago, and who came from England 
on purpose to see him. He said to 
him, when he entered the room, 
"Good-day, James, the spirit desired 
me to come to thee, to tell thee that 
thou shalt reign over us, and we all 
wish it. I come to tell thee, if thou 
hast need of money, we will give thee 



202 



The Stuarts In Exile 



amongst us from three to four mil- 
lions." The prince wanted to make 
him some present ; but he did not 
choose to take any, and went back 
directly to England, The prince made 
him eat at his own table. 



8. Letter from an English Traveller 
at Rome to his Father. (In Clarendon 
Hist. Soc. Reprints, ist Series, p. 

235-) 

Rome, ye 6th of May, 1721. 

Sir : . . . After my arrival hear I 
received your letter of ye 15th of Feb- 
ruy by which you reminded me of 
your commands at my Departure to 
avoid conversing with ye Pretender or 
any of his dependents. I must own, 
that notwithstanding my Inbred dislike 
to his pretensions, and my confirmed 
aversion for his profession, I often 
found my curiosity inclining me to be 
so farr acquainted with his person and 
carracter, that I might be able to say 
from my own knowledg, what sort of 
man he is, who has made and dayly 
makes so great a noise in England. 
[He has attempted three invasions. — 
Ed.] . . . My regard to your special 
commands was always an over balance 
to my curiosity until perfect chance 
ordain' d the contrary. . . . 

About a month ago ... we became 
acquainted with an English Gentle- 
man, . . . his name was Dr. Cooper 
a priest of ye Church of England, 
whom we did not suspect to be of ye 
Pretenders retinue. . . . On Ester Eve 
he made us the complement, that as 
he proposed us bred in ye profession 
of the said church, he thought it in- 
cumbent upon him to invite us to 
Devine service (next day being Ester 
Sunday). Such language at Rome 
apeard to me a jest ; I stard at the 
Doctor who added that the Pretender 
who he call'd King had prevaild with 
the late Pope to grant licences for 



having Divine service according to the 
rules of the Church of England per- 
formed in his Palace, for the Benefit 
of the Protestant Gentlemen of his 
suite . . . and that prayers were as 
orderly hear as at London. I should 
have remained of St. Thomas belief 
had not I been aware that this is 
matter of fact, and as such have noted 
it down amongst the great wonders of 
Rome. This was the occasion of my 
first entrance into ye Pretenders house ;. 
I became familiar with both the Doc- 
tors, who are sensible well bred men. 
I put several questions to them about 
ye Pretender and if creditt can be 
given them they ashurd me he is an 
upright morall man, very far from any 
sort of Begottry and most avers tO' 
Disputes and distinctions of Religeon, 
whereof not a word is admitted in his 
family ; they described him in his per- 
son very much to the resemblance of 
King Charles ye II., to which they 
say he aproches every day more and 
more ; with a great application to 
business and a head well turnd that 
way. . . . Some days after my Friend 
and I went to take the evening air in 
the stately Park called Villa Ludovici ; 
there we met on a sudden face to face 
with the Pretender, his princess and 
Cort. We were so very close, before 
we understood who they were, that 
we could not retreat with decenc}' ; 
common civility obliged us to stand 
sideways in the Ally, as others did to- 
lett them pass by. The Pretender was 
easily distinguished from the rest by 
his Starr and Garter, as well as by an 
air of greatness which discovered a 
Majesty superiour to ye rest. I felt in 
that instant of his api^oaclT a sti'ong 
convulsion of body and mind, such as 
I was never sensible of before ; whether 
Aversion, Awe or Respect occasiond it, 
I cant tell. I remarked his eyes fixt 
upon me, which I confess I could not 



The Stuarts in Exile 



203 



bear. I was perfectly stunnd and not 
aware of myself when persnant to what 
the standers by did, I made him a 
Salute ; he returned it with a Smile, 
which changd the sedateness of his 
first aspect into a very graceful coun- 
tenance ; as he past by I observed him 
to be a well siz'd clean limbd man. 

I had but one Glimpse of the prin- 
cess, which left me a great desire of 
seeing her again, however my friend 
and I turned off into another ally, 
to reason at leasure on our severall 
observations ; there we mett Doctor 
Cooper and after making some turns 
with him the same company came 
again in our way. I was grown some- 
what bolder and resolvd to lett them 
pass as before, in order to have a full 
view of ye Princess. She is of middle 
stature well shapd and has lovely fea- 
tures, while Vivacity and Mildness of 
temper are painted in her lookes. 
When they came up to us the Pre- 
tender stood and spoke a word to the 
Doctor ; then looking at us he asked 
him if ^ve -were English Gentlemen ; 
he asked how long we had been in 
Town and whether we had any ac- 
quaintance in it : then told us he had 
a house, where English Gentlemen 
would be very welcome. The Prin- 
cess who stood by addressed to the 
Doctor in the prettiest English I think 
I ever heard, said, "Pray, Doctor, if 
these Gentlemen be lovers of Musick 
invite them to my concert to-night : I 
charge you with it," which she accom- 
panyd with a Salute, and a smile in 
the most Gracious Manner. 

It was a very hard task, Sir, to recead 
from the honour of such an Invitation 
given by a Princess who altho married 
to the Pretender deserves so much 
respect in regard to her person, her 
name and family. However we argued 
the case with the Doctor and represented 
the strict orders we had to the Contrary. 



He replyd, there could be no prohibition 
to a Traveller against Musick even at 
the ceremonies of the Roman Cath. 
Church, yt if we missed this occasion of 
seeing this assembly of Roman Nobility 
we might not recover it again whilst we 
staid in Rome and that it became 
persons of our age and degree to act 
always the part of Gentlemen without 
regard to party humours. 

These arguments were more forcible 
than ours, so we went and saw a bright 
Assembly of the prime Roman Nobility, 
the Consort composd of the best Musi- 
tians of Rome, a plentifull and orderly 
Colation servd : But the courteous and 
affable manner of our Reception was 
more taking than all the rest. We had 
a general Invitation given us whilst we 
staid in Town and were desired to use 
that Palace as oin' own. Hence we 
were Indispensably obligd to make a 
visitt every day in order to return thanks 
for so many Civilitys receavd : those are 
things due to a Turk. 

We were admitted without Cere- 
monie ; the Pretender entertained us on 
the subject of our families as Knov/ingly, 
as if he had been all his life in England ; 
he told me some passages of my Grand- 
father and of his being a constant lover 
of King Charles ye I. and II. and added 
that if you. Sir, had been of Age before 
my Grandfathers death to learn his 
principles there had been little danger 
of your taking party against the Rights 
of a Stuart. . . . 

I told him I was surprizd at his so 
perfect Knowledg of our Families in 
England. His answer was, that from 
his Infancy he had made it his business 
to acquire the Knowledg of the Laws, 
customs, and Families of his Country so 
as he might not be reputed a stranger 
when the Almighty pleasd to Call him 
thither. 

Those and the like discorses held 
until word was brought, that dinner was 



204 



The Stuarts in Exile 



servd. We endeavourd all we could to 
withdraw but there -was no Possibility 
for it, after he had made us this Com- 
plement : "I ashure you Gentlemen I 
shall never be for Constraining any 
mans Inclinations ; however, our Grand- 
fathei's, who were worthy people, Dind 
often together and I hope that there can 
be no fait found that we do the same." 

There is every day a regular Table of 
Ten or Twelve Covers wel servd, unto 
■which some of the Qualyfyed persons 
of his Cort or Travelers are Invited : 
Its supplyed with English and French 
Cookery, Fi'ench and Italian wines, but 
I took notice that the Pretender eat only 
of the English dishes and made his Din- 
ner of Roast Beef, and what we call 
Devonshire Pye. . . . He is as free and 
cheerful at his Table as any man I know. 
He spoke much in favour of our English 
Ladies, and said he was persuaded, he 
had not many enemies amongst them. 
The Princess with a smiling counte- 
nance, took up the matter, and said, " I 
think then Sir it would be but Just, that 
I drink to the Cavaliers." 

Sometime after ye Pretender began a 
Health to ye prosperity of all Friends in 
England which he addressed to me. I 
took the freedom to reply that, as I pre- 
sumed he meant his own friends he 
would not take it ill that I meant mine. 
"I ashure you Sir, said he, that the 
friends you mean can have no great 
share of prosperity till they become 
mine, therefore hears prosperity to 
yours and mine." 

After Ave had sat and drank very 
heartily, the Princess told us we must 
go to see her Son, which could not be 
refusd. He is realy a fine promising 
Child, and is attended by English 
women, mostly protestant, which the 
Princess observd to us, saying that as 
she believd he was to live and Dye 
among protestants, she thought fitt to 
have him bred up by their hands ; and 



that in the Country where she was 
born, there was no other Distinction, 
but that of honest and dishonest. 
These women, and particular, two 
Londoners kept such a racket about us 
to make us kiss the young pretenders 
hand that to get clear of them as soon 
as we could, we were forced to Comply. 
The Princess laught very heartily and 
told us shee question' d but the day 
would come that we should not be 
sorry to have made so early acquaint- 
ance with her Son. I thought myself 
under a necessity of making her a 
Complement that Being Hers he could 
not miss of being good and happy. 
On the next post day we went as com- 
monly the English Gentlemen hear do, 
to the Pretenders house for news. . . . 
He bemoaned the misfortune of Eng- 
land, [and] . . . lamented the ill 
treatment and disregard of the Ancient 
Nobility. . . . " Some may imagine," 
continued he, " that these Calamities are 
not displeasing to me because they may 
in some measure turn to my Advantage. 
I renounce all such unworthy Thoughts. 
The love of my Country is the first 
principle of my worldly wishes and 
my heart bleeds to see so brave and 
honest a people distressed and misled 
by a few wicked men and plunged into 
Miseries almost Iretrievable." There- 
upon he rose briskly from his Chair 
and expressed his Concern with fire in 
his Eyes. 

[After a heated discussion on reli- 
gion, in the course of which the Pre- 
tender saj's that he has been warned by 
his Father's fate and that " all cleargy- 
men not authorized by the statutes of a 
nation out (ought) to be confined to 
the bare dutys of there profession ' '] , 
I thought it full time to take leave, and 
break off the conversation, as I per- 
ceave it [to be] to finish this long 
letter. I own I am not sorry to have 



WiLHELMUS BYDER GRATIE GODTS 

Prince yaist Oraengien. Grave van Nassau, s^c. jvlarquiz 
YAisr Veere,en Ylissingenstc. Baron van Breda Gouver ; 

NEXJR OVER GELDEREANDT, HOLEANDT, ZEEEANDT, VEST/ 
VRIESEANDT,8iC. GENERAEL VANDE RtTYTERYE . 

Js Geteyckent ende G^fned^n , dear C^rifbyrt van Quehooren . 

Abf Van "Waesber gen Exc . Amfterd am . 



The Stuarts in Exile 



205 



contented so far my curiosity and that 
were lie not the Pretender I should like 
the man very ^vel. We should truly 
pass much of our time in dullness, had 
we not the diversion of his hous, but I 
will give 3'ou my word I will enter no 
more upon arguments of this kind with 
him ; for he has too much witt and 
learning for me : besides that he speaks 
with such an air of sincerity that I am 
apprehensive I should become half a 
Jacobite, if I should continue following 
these discourses any longar. 

I crave the favour of your blessing 
etc. 



9. Extract from the Memoirs of 
Dutens. (London, 1S06, Vol. ^, 
P- 35-) 

The Abbe Fabroni, rector of the 



University of Pisa, assured me that, at 
the commencement of the American 
war, he had seen letters from the Bos- 
tonians to the Pi-etender, inviting him 
to come and put himself at their head. 
[This was the yo2ing' Pretender^ 
whose baby hand we have just seen 
kissed by the doubting Englishmen at 
Rome. Bold and daring he had headed 
the uprising of 1745, had won the 
battles of Preston Pans and Falkirk, 
only to lose all on Culloden Moor. 
Pie died in 17SS. — Ed.] I knew that 
the Duke de Choiseul had a desigli to 
send that Prince to America in the )'ear 
1760; but I cannot help doubting 
whether such determined republicans 
as the Bostonians would have wished 
to have a prince of the House of Stuart 
for their Chief. 



GROUP XXII. 



CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS OK WILLIAM AND MARY. 



I. A Tract on William III. (Som- 
ers' Tracts, Vol. XII. p. 3S2.) 

[Sir Walter Scott calls this tract, 
which was published soon after the 
king's death, " a favourable, but by no 
means a partial, account of the life of 
the great monarch to whom it refers." 
—Ed.] 

Though fortune might seem a step- 
mother to this prince, by depriving him 
of a father before scarce a human soul 
had been breathed into the infant, yet 
she abundantly made amends for that 
unkindness by the prudence and indul- 
gency of his mother, eldest daughter 
of King Charles I., who, by means of 
the blood from whence she sprung, not 
only conveyed to him a prospect of at- 
taining to three kingdoms, but also, by 
the care she took ot his education, she 
formed his soul worthy of the crowns 



he was destined by Providence to 
wear. . . . 

His education was consistent with 
the manners of the country where he 
was educated ; the methods prescribed 
him b}' those that had the honour of 
his tuition were solid and severe ; noth- 
ing gay or glittering was seen in his 
court, or the conversation of those per- 
sons who were entrusted with the man- 
agement of his tender years. 

His mind adjusted itself to the admo- 
nitions of his tutors, and produced a 
temper serious and thoughtful, quite 
averse from the usual gallantries 
practised in the more refined and polite 
courts, as they stiled themselves, of 
Europe. 

He was never a mighty scholar him- 
self, nor did he much affect learning, or 
the charms of a witty conversation ; 



2o6 



Traits of William and Mary 



such as were masters of those ciualities 
were seldom employed by him . . . 
and this maybe truly said of him, with- 
out injustice to his memory, that he 
was a much greater king, but noth- 
ing so fine a gentleman as his uncle 
[Charles II.]. . . . 

He never had man}' favourites, and 
it was well for England that he had no 
more than two. The first of these was 
Monsieur Bentinck, now Earl of Port- 
land, who obtained his esteem and 
■ friendship by one ef the most gener- 
ous actions imaginable. 

This young gentleman was page to 
the Prince of Orange, and much of the 
same age with his master. It hap- 
pened, that the prince was taken ill of 
the small-pox, which not rising kindly 
upon him, his physicians judged it nec- 
essary that some young person should 
lie in the same bed with the prince, 
imagining, that the natural heat of an- 
other would drive out the disease, and 
expel it from the nobler parts. No- 
body of quality could be found in all 
the court to make this experiment ; at 
last, Monsieur Bentinck, though he had 
never had the small-pox, resolved to 
run the risque ; he did so, the prince 
recovered, his page fell ill, and, in a 
little time, had the happiness to find 
himself in a healthy condition, and as 
well as his master. Ever after this 
action of Monsieur Bentinck' s, which 
was truly great and noble, the prince 
had an entire affection for so faithful a 
servant, and particularly trusted him 
in affairs of the highest consequence. 

Though his highness commanded the 
army of the States very young, when 
he was scarcely seventeen, . . . yet he 
behaved himself with greater vigilance, 
prudence, and conduct, than could be 
reasonably expected of him at that time 
of day. . . . 



Though severe and . reserved in the 
cabinet, yet, in the camp he was fiery 
to a fault, and often exposed himself, 
and the cause he defended, with a rash- 
ness, blameable in an officer of his 
dignity. . . . 

He never shewed so great a reserv- 
edness, nor, indeed, a greater piece of 
wisdom, than upon his marriage with 
the Lady Mary, eldest daughter of the 
late King James : She was a princess 
who, for her beauty, good humour, 
sense and piety, had no equal in Eu- 
rope. Her zeal for the protestant re- 
ligion was surprising in a lady of her 
youth, and what did not a little add to 
her shining qualities was her being pre- 
sumptive heiress to three kingdoms. 

The people of England were infinitely 
desirous this inatch should take effect ; 
and King Charles persuaded the world 
he had the same inclinations, but pri- 
vately insinuated to the prince, that his 
making a peace, and his inducing the 
Spaniards to do the same, upon such 
terms as his Brittanick Majesty proposed 
(which terms, in truth, were too fa- 
vourable to the French) were the only 
means his highness had to obtain the 
lady. Here was love and glory in op- 
position to one another ; but the prince, 
under these extraordinarv circum- 
stances, shewed an unchangeable tem- 
per, and a mind impregnable against 
the strongest assaults. He assured the 
crown of England, that, although he 
had the highest veneration for the Prin- 
cess Mary, yet nothing could make him 
recede from the interest of the allies, 
and he should always prefer his hon- 
our to all other considerations whatso- 
ever. Fortune was just to his virtue ; 
he gained his point both ways, and ob- 
tained the best of princesses for him- 
self, and those articles of peace he in- 
sisted upon for his confederates. 



Traits of William and Mary 



•07 



Reresbyf s Alemoirs. (London, 187^, 

p. S2.) 

1670. 

The Prince of Orange being at this 
time come into England, to pretend to 
the Lady Mar}', eldest daughter of his 
Highness the Duke of York, the King 
received him — both on account of his 
relation and merit, being a very per- 
sonable and hopeful prince — with great 
splendor. Amongst other of his enter- 
tainments the King made him drink very 
hard one night at a supper, given by the 
Duke of Buckingham. The Prince did 
not naturally love it, but being once 
entered, was more frolic and merry than 
the rest of the company ; amongst other 
expressions of it he broke the windows 
of the chambers of the maids of honor. 

Tract on William III. 

. . . Some persons are of opinion, 
that the prince held predestination ; that 
it was his judgment all balls were com- 
missioned, and had their bounds set 
them, farther than which they were not 
able to go. . . . 

His enterprise upon England must be 
allowed very just : That step towards 
the Revolution, there are but few which 
cavil at ; it is true some persons would 
have been contented that he had pro- 
ceeded but little farther, and only tied 
up the hands of his unfortunate prede- 
cessor. But these gentlemen argue very 
little like politicians : King James would 
have been King James still, and soon, 
by the violation of the people's liberties, 
returned to that course from whence the 
success of the prince's arms had obliged 
him to deviate. . . . The prince made 
a bridge of gold for King James : he 
was taken by his own subjects, and in 
a sort of confinement, brought back to 
London. That sun, which was dreaded 
in the west as bad as death itsself [at the 
time of the Bloody Circuit. — Ed.], sets 
in a small town, the scorn and mockery 
of the rabble. 



3. Extracts from Bishop Burnet's 
History of his own Times. (Reign of 
James n. Oxford, 1853, p. 144.) 

16S6. 

When I came to Utrecht I found 
letters writ to me by some of the prince 
of Orange's Court, desiring me to come 
first to the Hague, and wait on the 
prince and princess [William and 
Mary], before I should settle anywhere. 
Upon my coming to the Hague I was 
admitted to wait on them. I found they 
had received such characters of me from 
England, that they resolved to treat me 
with great confidence. . . . The prince, 
though naturally cold and reserved, yet 
laid aside a great deal of that with me. 
He seemed highly dissatisfied with the 
king's conduct. . . . There was a gravity 
in his whole deportment that struck 
me. . . . 

The prince had been much neglected 
in his education : for all his life long he 
hated constraint. He spoke little. He 
put on some appearance of application : 
but he hated business of all sorts. Yet 
he hated talking, and all house games, 
more. This put him on a perpetual 
course of hunting, to which he seemed 
to give himself up, beyond any man I 
ever knew : but I looked on that always, 
as a flying from company and business. 
The depression of France was the 
governing passion of his whole life. 
. . . He had a way that was affable and 
obliging to the Dutch. But he could 
not bring himself to comply enough 
with the temper of the English, his 
coldness and slowness being very con- 
trary to the genius of the nation. 

The princess possessed all that con- 
versed with her with admiration. Her 
person vv'as majestic, and created re- 
spect. She had great knowledge, with 
a true understanding, and a noble ex- 
pression. There was a sweetness in 
her deportment that charmed, and an 
exactness in piety and of virtue that 



2o8 



Traits of William and Mary 



made her a pattern to all that saw her. 
The king gave her no appointment 
to support the dignity of a king's 
dauarhter. Nor did he send her any 
presents or jewels, which was thought 
a very indecent, and certainly was a 
very ill advised thing. . . . But . . . 
she managed her privj' purse so well, 
that she became eminent in her chari- 
ties : and the good grace with which 
she bestowed favours did always in- 
crease their value. She had read much 
both in history and divinity. And when 
a course of humours in her eyes forced 
her from that, she set herself to work 
with such a constant diligence, that she 
made the ladies about her ashamed to 
be idle. She knew little of our affairs, 
till I was admitted to wait on her. And 
I began to lay before her the state of 
our court, and the intrigues in it, ever 
since the restoration : which she re- 
ceived with great satisfaction, and 
shewed true judgment and a good 
mind, in all the reflections that she 
made. . . . 

That which fixed me in their confi- 
dence was, the liberty I took, in a 
private conversation with the princess, 
to ask her what she intended the prince 
should be, if she came to the crown. 
... I explained King Henry the 
seventh's title to her, and what had 
passed when queen Mary married 
Philip of Spain. I told her, a titular 
kingship was no acceptable thing to a 
man, especially if it was to depend on 
another's life: and such a nominal 
dignity might endanger the real one 
that the prince had in Holland. She 
desired me to propose a remedy. I 
told her, the remedy, if she could bring 
her mind to it, was, to be contented to 
be his wife, and to engage herself to 
him, that she would give him the real 
authority as soon as it came into her 
hands, and endeavour effectually to get 
it to be legally vested in him during 



life : this would lay the greatest obliga- 
tion on him possible, and lay the 
foundation of a perfect union between 
them, which had been of late a little 
embroiled. ... I hoped she would 
consider well of it : for if she once de- 
clared her mind, I hoped she would 
never go back or retract it. I desired 
her therefore to take time to think of it. 
She presently answered me, she would 
take no time to consider of anything by 
which she could express her regard and 
affection to the prince ; and ordered me 
to give him an account of all that I 
had laid before her,' and to bring him 
to her, and I should hear what she 
would say upon it. He was that day 
a-hunting : and next daj^ I acquainted 
him with all that had passed, and 
carried him to her; where she in a 
very frank manner told him, that she 
did not know that the laws of England 
were so contrary to the laws of God, 
as I had informed her : she did not 
think that the husband was ever to be 
obedient to the wife : she promised 
him, he should always bear rule: and 
she asked only, that he would obey the 
command of. Husbands love yo2ir 
wives, as she should do that. Wives 
be obcdie7it to your husbands in all 
things. . . . He [the prince] said 
[afterwards] he had been nine years 
married, and had never the confidence 
to press this matter on the queen, which 
I had now brought about easily in a 
day. 
Letter of the Earl of Argyll to an 

unknoivn Correspojident . 

(In nth Report of MSS. Commission, 

6th App. p. I S3.) 

May 1 2th, 16S9. 
. . . Yesterday we disburthened 
ourselves of the Crown which was 
done in the Bankue-tting house with 
great solemnitie. The King and 
Qiieen swore the oath ; the King him- 
self swore it with that gravitie and 




rat? 6)2i./LUrnc '^"K'/2Ct(iCiLJ J raacAn'cA c'/t ) /ia/?J<fJ 



.l'ji\i.t y.-Ufiut.V'.'ri cx£uMt- 



Traits of William and Mary 



209 



seriousnesse that we had never seen ex- 
pressed in the taking ane oath before. 
When he came to that part of the oath 
anent rooting out of hereticks he told us 
that by it he did not understand himself 
oblidged to persecute anie upon the 
account of religion and took us three 
witnesses upon it. 



3. Extracts from the Rutland Cor- 
respondence. (MSS. Commission, 
1 3th Report, Appendix V.) 

Prances li/isscH to Lady ^largarct 
Russell. 

Sept. 39th, 1690. 
. . . We have the best neighbours 
here of mj' Lord and Lady Wharton 
that ever I had in any place. . . . 
Yesterday I found my Lady very much 
out of humour fretting at her having 
been surprised this day sevnnight by 
the Qiieen, who dined with her with- 
out giveing her more than an hour and 
a half's notice. . . . 'Tis easy to imag- 
ine what her condition was. There 
was notning in the house, nor nothing 
that on such a sudden could be got in 
the countrey. She sed if she would 
have given five pound for a partridge, 
'twas not to be had. She had no cook 
but a maid. . . . Her steward . . . 
was gone a week before, I know not 
where. Everything was out of order, 
and the Qijeen whom my Lady had 
never seen, was just at the door. . . . 
My Lady was fam to make her best 
assurance supply the want of every- 
thing else. There was all the guards 
to be fed, and Lords and Ladies to 
have a table, besides that for the 
Qiieen. Indeed to heare my Lady 
Wharton tell the tragical story would 
almost have made one cry ; yet after 
all she was very well pleased with the 
honour the Qiieen did her, and believes 
Her Majestie will have the goodness to 
pardon the disorder of the entertain- 
ment. . . . 



4. Extracts from Burnet. 

I now begin, on the first day of May, 
1705, to prosecute this work ; and have 
before me a reign, that drew upon it an 
universal expectation of great things to 
follow, from such auspicious begin- 
nings ; and from so general a joy as 
was spread over these nations. . . . 
It seemed to be a double-bottomed 
monarchy, where there were two joint- 
sovereigns ; but those who knew the 
queen's temper and principles, had no 
apprehensions of divided counsels, or 
of a distracted government. 

That which gave the most melan- 
choly prospect was the ill state of the 
King's health, whose stay so long at 
St. James's without exercise or hunt- 
ing, which was so much used by him 
that it was become necessary, had 
brought him under such a weakness, 
as was like to have very ill effects : 
and the face he forced himself to set 
upon it, that it might not appear too 
much, made an impression on his 
temper. He was apt to be peevish : 
it put him under a necessity of being 
much in his closet, and of being silent 
and reserved. . . . Many studied to 
persuade him, it would be necessary 
for his affairs to change his way, that 
he might be more accessible, and freer 
in his discourse. He seemed resolved 
on it; but he said, his ill health made 
it impossible for him to execute it: 
and so . . . he grew more retired, and 
was not easy to come at, nor spoke 
to. . . . So that the face of a court, 
and the rendezvous usual in the public 
rooms, was now quite broke. This 
gave an early and general disgust. 
The gaiety and the diversions of a 
court disappeared. And, though the 
Qiieen set herself to make up what was 
wanting in the King, by a great vivac- 
ity and cheerfulness ; yet when it 
appeared that she meddled not in busi- 
ness, so that few found their account in 



210 



Traits of William and Mary 



making their court to her, though she 
gave a wonderful content to all who 
came near her, yet few came. 

The King found the air of Hampton 
Court agreed so well with him, that he 
resolved to live the greatest part of the 
year there. . . . This shewed a resolu- 
tion to live at a distance from London : 
and the entering so soon on so expen- 
sive a building, afforded matter of cen- 
sure to those who were disposed enough 
to entertain it. And this spread a uni- 
versal discontent in the city of London. 
And these small and almost indiscerni- 
ble beginnings and seeds of ill humour, 
have ever since gone on in a very visible 
increase and progress. . . . 

16S9. 
. . . Ward, bishop of Salisbury, died 
this winter : many spoke to the King in 
my favour, without my knowledge. 
The King made them no answer. But 
a few days after he was set on the 
throne, he of his own motion named 
me to that see : and he did it in terms 
more obliging than usually fell from 
him. . . . 

. . . The great mildness of the 
King's temper, and the gentleness of 
his government, which was indeed 
rather liable to censure, as being too 
remiss, set people's minds much at 
ease . . . and all promised themselves 
happy days under so merciful a 
prince. . . . 

1 69 1. 
. . . This was still kept up as a 
prejudice against the King and his gov- 
ernment, that he loved to have a great 
army about him ; and that when they 
were once modeled, he would never 
part with them, but govern in an arbi- 
trary way, as soon as he had prepared 
his soldiers to serve his ends. 

Another prejudice had more colour 
and as bad effects. The King was 
thought to love the Dutch more than 
the English, to trust more to them, and 



to admit them to more freedom with 
him. He gave too much occasion to a 
general disgust, which was spread both 
amons: the English officers and the no- 
bility : he took little pains to gain the 
affections of the nation ; nor did he con- 
strain himself enough to render his gov- 
ernment more acceptable : he was shut 
up all the day long ; and his silence, 
when he admitted any to an audience, 
distasted them as much as if they had 
been denied it. The earl of Marlbor- 
ough thought that the great services he 
had done were not acknowledged nor 
rewarded, as they well deserved ; and 
began to speak like a man discontented. 
And the strain of all the nation almost 
was, that the English were overlooked, 
and the Dutch were the only persons 
favoured or trusted. This was national ; 
and the English being too apt to despise 
other nations, and being of more 'ively 
tempers than the Dutch, grew to express 
a contempt and an aversion for them 
that went almost to a mutiny. 

1692. 

. . . Li the beginning of September 
there was an earthquake felt in most 
places in England. ... It had been 
happy for us, if such dismal accidents 
had struck us with a deeper sense of 
the judgments of God. 

We were indeed brought to more of 
an outward face of virtue and sobriety : 
and the great examples that the king 
and queen set the nation, had made 
some considerable alterations, as to 
public practices : but we became deeply 
corrupted in principle : a disbelief of 
revealed religion, and a prophane mock- 
ing of the Christian faith, and the 
mysteries of it, became avowed and 
scandalous. The queen, in the king's 
absence, gave orders to execute the laws 
against drunkenness, swearing, and the 
prophanation of the Lord's day. . . . 
Yet the reformation of manners . . . 
went on but slowly. . . . 




(See page 215.) 



Traits of William and Mary 



21 I 



1694 

... I am now coming towards the 
fatal period of this book. The queen 
continued still to set a great example to 
the whole nation, which shined in all 
the parts of it. She used all possible 
methods for reforming whatever was 
amiss : she took ladies off from that 
idleness, which not only wasted their 
time, but exposed them to many ten.p- 
tations ; she engaged many both to 
read and to work ; she wrought many 
hours a day herself, with her ladies 
and her maids of honour working about 
her, while one read to them all ; the 
female part of the court had been in 
the former reigns subject to much 
censure ; and there was great cause for 
it ; but she freed her court so entirely 
from all suspicion, that there was not 
so much as a colour for discourses of 
that sort. . . , 

When I laid all these things together, 
which I had large opportunities to 
observe, it gave a very pleasant pros- 
pect. . . . but we soon saw this hope- 
ful view blasted and our expectations 
•disappointed in the loss of her. . . . 
The small pox raged this winter about 
London ; some thousands dying of 
them ; which gave us great apprehen- 
sions with relation to the queen ; for 
she had never had them. 

In conclusion, she was taken ill, but 
the next day that seemed to go off : I 
had the honour to be half an hour with 
her that day : and she complained then 
of nothing. The day following she 
went abroad ; but her illness returned 
so heavily on her, that she could dis- 
guise it no longer. . . . Within two 
days after the small pox appeared, and 
with very bad symptons. . . . [The 
King] called me into his closet, and 
gave a free vent to a most tender 
passion ; he burst out into tears ; and 
cried out, that there was no hope of 
the queen ; and that from being the 



happiest, he was now going to be the 
miserablest creature upon earth. He 
said, during the whole course of their 
marriage, he had never known one 
single fault in her ; there was a worth 
in her that nobody knew besides him- 
self ; though he added that I might 
know as much of her as any other 
person did. Never was such a face of 
universal sorrow seen in a court or in a 
town as at this time. . . . She died 
on the 2Sth of December, about one in 
the morning, in the 33rd year of her 
age, and in the 6th of her reign. 

She was the most universally la- 
mented princess, and deserved the best 
to be so, of any in our age or in our 
history. I will add no more concern- 
ing her, in the way of a character : I 
have said a great deal already in this 
work ; and I wrote a book, as an essay 
on her character, in which I have said 
nothing, but that which I knew to be 
strictly true, without enlargement of 
figure or rhetoric. The king's afflic- 
tion for her death was . . . greater 
than those who knew him best thought 
his temper capable of : he went beyond 
all bounds in it : during her sickness, 
he was in an agony that amazed us all, 
fainting often, and breaking out into 
most violent lamentations. . . . He 
turned himself much to the meditations 
of religion, and to secret prayer. 

A Tract oil William III. — continued. 

She (Mary) died as unconcerned as 
his majesty her husband fought, and 
braved the King of Terrors with as 
great a resolution on her bed of sick- 
ness, as he did in the field of battle ; 
and certainly that lady's piety or cour- 
age was the greater, since, as she said 
herself to my Lord Archbishop of 
Canterbury, she was always prepared 
to die, and her royal spouse very often 
took the sacrament before a battle. 

King William, as it is reported, was 



212 



Traits of William and Mary 



very much concerned at her death ; and, 
if he had expressed a more visible 
sorrow, the nation w^ould liave resented 
it still more kindl}-, who sincerely 
mourned the loss of that princess, and 
still do upon her memory. 

But, though the loss of so good a 
princess afflicted King William very 
much, 3'et the peace of Reswick mor- 
tified him much more : he was obliged 
at last, by the murmuring temper of his 
subjects, to acquiesce in terms very dis- 
honourable to Europe, and not over- 
glorious to his majesty. By this treaty 
of pacification the French were to 
retain Luxemburgh and Strassburgh, 
those bulwarks of Flanders and the 
empire, who, instead of them, were 
only to have an equivalent, which, in 
fact, was far from the intrinsic value of 
those provinces, but, notwithstanding 
the inequality of these and other articles, 
the conduct of the Duke of Savoy, and 
the neutrality of Italy, powerfully per- 
suaded the allies to put an end to the 
war. 

Soon after the peace, the Partition- 
Treaty followed, and, by too much pre- 
caution, the government involved the 
nation in a dreadful war, which, to 
their best thinking they endeavoured to 
avoid. The Spaniards, who are a 
haughty people, so much resented the 
intended division of their monarchy, 
that their grandees made a will, or in- 
fluenced their monarch so to do, by 
which he devised all his dominions in 
Italy, Spain, and the West Indies, to 
the House of Bourbon, in the person of 
the Duke of Anjou, who, notwithstand- 
ing the most dreadful imprecations of 
his grandfather to the contrary, took 
possession of those states and provinces, 
by the assistance of that monarch, who, 
to prefer his family, despised all sanc- 
tions, both divine and human. . . . 

When the peace of Reswick was 
brought to a conclusion, the Parliament 



of England thought it high time to dis- 
band some of their national regiments,, 
and all the foreigners in their service. 
Amongst these last were the Dutch blue 
guards, and my Lord Portland's regi- 
ment of Dutch horse, who attended his 
majesty in all his expeditions, long 
before and after his accession to the 
throne of England. His majesty was 
much dissatisfied at the proceedings, 
and made all the interest he possibly 
could in the house to disannul the in- 
junctions of his supreme council, but all 
to no affect ; he used entreaties to the 
parliament, but to no purpose, and 
upon this occasion behaved himself 
much different from the haughty char- 
acter he had all along maintained. 



5. Letter of the Countess of Rutland 
to her Husband. (MS. Commission,, 
Report 12, App. v.) 

April, 1 70 1. 

I was last night at Kensington, my 
dear Lord, alltho my cold yett is farr 
from being gone, and I received so 
great a honour from his Majesty, who, 
'tis said, is observed to not talk much 
to ladys, that I cannot miss acquaint- 
ing you with it. . . . He found . . . 
the Dutches of Somersett, Ormond, 
Qiieensbrough, and myself talking 
together just by the card table and his- 
chaire, so he made his legs to all the 
ladys, and every one that played took 
their stoolls. . . . He asked me how 
j'ou had your ill health, and said he 
hard you had not injoyed it extrem 
well, which he was sorr}' for. . . . 
Affter his playing a litel at the gold 
tabel he rise and went to goe to the 
orther tabels, as he allways dus, so I 
gave back to mack the King's way, and 
presed the ladys behind to do so to, 
which the King seeing said it was ' No 
mater, my Lady Rutland, for I can 
come over the stool,' so strid over it 
and when he came just by me stopped 




THE FIRST KING OF PRUSSIA. 

( See page 2J^.) 



Traits of William and Mary 



213 



and told I looked mighty well [and 
conversed about 3011]. 

VViiill all this passed between us, I 
could hear a world of the crowd, who 
knew me not, ask " Wlio is she, what 
is she, that tlie King takes such nottice 
of, and looks so pleased all the wliill 
he talks to?" and abundance that did 
know me asked what his Majesty and I 
coud find to talk of so long. I told 
them it was fine speeches of civillity on 
both sides, and severall spoack allso 
to Dolly of it, who . . . said it was 
observed by all that the king looked 
brisker and pleaseantr when he was 
doing me that honour amongst so much 
compainy than [he] had bine seen to 
do of sum time. 



6. Extracts from Burnet. 

1702. 

. . . The king seemed all this winter 
in a very fair way of recovery : he had 
made the royal apartments in Hampton- 
Court very noble, and he was so much 
pleased with the place, that he went 
thither once a week, and rode often 
about the park : in the end of Februarj-, 
the horse he rode on stumbled, and he, 
being then very feeble, fell off and 
broke his collar bone. . . . He was 
brought to Kensington that night.. . . . 
During his illness, he sent a message to 
the two houses, recomending the union 
of both kingdoms to them. . . . He 
died, in the 53nd year of his age, 
having reigned 13 years and a few 
days. . . . 

Thus lived and died William the 
third, king of Great Britain, and prince 
of Orange. He had a thin and weak 
body, was brown haired, and of a clear 
and delicate constitution : he had a 
Roman eagle nose, bright and spark- 
ling eyes, a large front, and a counte- 
nance composed to gravity and author- 
ity : all his senses were critical and 
exquisite. He was always asthmatical. 



and the dregs of the smallpox falling 
on his lungs, he had a constant deep 
cough. His behaviour was solemn 
and serious, seldom cheerful, and but 
with a few : he spoke little and very 
slowly, and most commonly with a 
disgusting dryness, which was his 
character at all times, except in a day 
of battle : for then he was all fire, 
though without passion : he was then 
everywhere, and looked to every- 
thing. ... 

He had a memory that amazed all 
about him, fo: it never failed him : he 
was an exact observer of men and 
things . . . his genius lay chiefly to 
war, in which his courage was more 
admired than his conduct : great errors 
were often committed by him, but his 
heroical courage set things right, as it 
inflamed those who were about him. . . . 

He grew, in his last years, too remiss 
and cai-eless as to all affairs ; till the 
treacheries of France awakened him, 
and the dreadful conjunction of the 
monarchies [France and Spain. — Ed. J 
gave so loud an alarm to all Europe. 
For a watching over that court, and a 
bestirring himself against their prac- 
tices, was the prevailing passion of his 
whole life. 

Note by Onslo-iv, a Contemporary. 

And made prejaarations and provi- 
sion for carrying it on after his death. 
His design in all this was great and 
public-spirited, and no prince ever pos- 
sessed more of that than he did. And 
accounts of him have not done him 
justice enough in that particular. It 
made him to forego all private consid- 
erations whatever, that could interfere 
with it ; ease, health, or pleasures, 
anger, resentment, jealousy and even 
rivalry. 

Bjirnet. 
I was, in manj- great instances, much 
obliged by him ; but that was not mj' 



214 Traits of William and Mary 



chief bias to him : I considered him as 
a person raised up by God to resist the 
power of France, and the progress of 
tyranny and persecution : the series of 
the five princes of Orange, that was 
now ended in him, was the noblest suc- 
cession of heroes that we find in any 
history : and the thirty years, from the 
year 1673 to his death, in which he 
acted so great a part, carry in them so 
many amazing steps of a glorious and 
distinguishing providence, that in the 
words of David he may be called, the 
man of God's rigJit hand., -ivhom he 
}}jadc stro7ig for hiuise/f: after all the 
abatements that may be allowed for his 
errors and faults, he ought still to be 
reckoned among the greatest princes 
that our history, or indeed that any 



other, can afford. He died in a critical 
time for his own glory; since he had 
formed a great alliance, and had pro- 
jected the whole scheme of the war ; so 
that if it succeeds, a great part of the 
honour of it will be ascribed to him : 
and if otherwise, it ■svill be said he was 
the soul of the alliance, that did both 
animate and knit it together, and that it 
was natural for that body to die and fall 
asunder, when he who gave it life was 
withdrawn. Upon his death, some 
moved for a magnificent funeral ; but 
it seemed not decent to run into unnec- 
essary expense, when we were entering 
on a war that must be maintained 
at a vast charge : so a private funeral 
was resolved on. 



EDITORIAL. 



THE SPANISH SUCCESSION WAR. 



[Matthew Prior, as we have seen (p. 
171) wrote in 169S : "The King of 
Spain's health is the weatherglass upon 
which all our politicians look ; as that 
rises or falls we look pleasant or un- 
easy." The same words would have 
applied at almost any time during the 
previous thirty years. Already in 
166S the Emperor Leopold and Louis 
XIV had n'.ade a secret treaty to 
divide the spoils between them so 
soon as the sickly Charles II, the 
last Spanish Hapsburg, should pass 
away. But the feeble prince, whose 
domains embraced not only Spain, 
Cuba and the Phillipines, but also 
the Netherlands and a part of Italy 
and Sicily, lingered on from year to 
year. Louis XIV was constantly on 
the watch ; descended from the elder 
sister of Philip IV, he had, to make 
matters the more sure, married the older 
sister of Charles II, although the latter 
princess had been obliged, in order to 



secure her dowry, to renounce her hopes 
of the succession. The head of the 
Austrian Hapsburgs, the long-reigned 
Empsror Leopold was descended from 
a younger sister of Philip IV and had 
married the younger sister of Charles 
II ; but no renunciation stood in the 
way. To two other powers, England 
and Holland, the question of the suc- 
cession was of vital importance even 
from a purely commercial point of 
view ; for France and Spain united 
would have controlled nearly the whole 
sea-coast of the continent of Europe, 
and would have been in a position to 
forbid the lucrative trade with the West 
Indies. For a moment a peaceful solu- 
tion of the matter seemed to have been 
achieved : Louis XIV and William of 
Orange agreed to give Spain, the Neth- 
erlands and the colonies to Joseph 
Ferdinand of Bavaria, son of the 
Elector Max Emmanuel, and grandson 
of the Emperor Leopold. Austria was- 




^yf^Taxi/N ilicuu ij: C man net (X). ij. i£)avarim 

v,^ ^^ "s^ 



LDux et d lector. Cdclqii Uxcj/U 



iff (A 



'icniator . ^v.. . 



The Spanish Succession War 2 i 5 



to take Milan, France to have Naples 
and Sicily. 

Il there was one thing which the 
Spaniards detested it was the thought 
of having their possessions parcelled 
out in this manner. King Charles mus- 
tered strength to appear in a council of 
state and proclaim Joseph Ferdinand 
heir not of a part but of the whole of 
his dominions. But the youiig prince 
at once sickened and died ; many be- 
lieved he had fallen a victim to a 
poiidre de succession administered by 
order of the French King. Charles II 
himself was by this time really dying. 
Louis signed a ne\v partition treaty with 
Holland and England ; but his agents 
the while, headed by the Archbishop 
of Toledo and byjesuit confessors, were 
busy at the pillow of the dying mon- 
arch, trying to persuade him to deed 
his realms to Philip of Anjou, grand- 
son of the French king. An opposing 
party, headed by the Qiieen, tried 
equally hard to secure the whole inher- 
itance for the Archduke Charles, Leo- 
pold's younger son. One day, in the 
Qiieen's absence from the sick-room, 
the fatal document was signed in favor 
o£ the French candidate. " The 
Pyrenees have ceased to exist," cried 
Louis XIV, and caused Philip to be 
solemnly proclaimed King of Spain in 
the Palace of Versailles. " But re- 
member," he said in his address of 
congratulation, " that you are a prince 
of France." 

England, Holland and Austria had 
equal cause for war; the two former 
because of the breach of the Partition 
treaty, the latter because bereft of all 
share in the inheritance. It cost King 
William, indeed, infinite pains to gain 
over the English parliament ; he could 
not afford to offend the Tories, whose 
votes were needed in the matter of the 
Protestant succession to the throne ; but 
at last the succession act was passed 



and shoi'tly afterwards the " Grand 
Alliance" signed. William died before 
hostilities commenced ; but his coalition 
stood until England so disgracefully 
abandoned it in 17 13. The Grand 
Alliance was joined as a matter of 
course by Hanover and by Prussia ; the 
former had beey made an electorate (in 
1692), the latter a kingdom (two days 
before the death of Charles II), with 
the understanding that they should fight 
the Emperor's battles. One by one the 
other German powers came in, although 
with characteristic tardiness the diet of 
Ratisbon did not declare war until the 
fighting had been going on for nearly a 
year. 

One striking exception was the 
Elector of Bavaria, Max Emmanuel, 
who listened to the delusive promises of 
Louis XIV. He was to have the Pal- 
atinate (if he could conquer it!), or, 
perhaps, the Spanish Netherlands, a 
royal, and possibly even the imperial 
crown. 

Even after signing the alliance, and 
after the Austrians had long since taken 
the field, England hesitated to open hos- 
tilities. But when, on the death of 
James II the French King ostentatiously 
treated his son with rojal honors, and 
empowered him to take the title of 
James III, all the reluctance of the 
people gave v^^ay. In the public squares 
of London a herald, to the sound of 
trumpets, summoned Louis to mortal 
combat on the ground of " presuming 
to support the so-called Prince of Wales 
as King of England." Parliament 
granted large supplies of men and 
mone}', and entrusted the chief com- 
mand to the " handsomest man in the 
world," Lord Churchill, duke of Marl- 
borough. Fortunately court favor was 
paired with coolness, daring, and, in- 
deed, with all the qualities tiiat go to 
make a great commander. The Aus- 
trians put in the field a general of the 



2i6 The Spanish Succession War 



same calibre, the redoubtable Prince 
Eugene. The troops of the Empire 
were under Louis of Baden, who, in- 
deed, although he had once done good 
service against the Turks, had now out- 
lived his usefulness. 

The chief successes in the early part 
of the war fell to Max Emmanuel of 
Bavaria ; he was greeted on his entry 
into Augsburg in 1703 as "Augustus 
and soon to be Caesar," and a medal 
was struck in which he is designated 
as "King of Bohemia." But Marl- 
borough and Eugene combined against 
him, sent Louis of Baden out of the 
way even at the cost of entrusting him 
with 20,000 men, and then struck their 
great blow at Hochstiidt, or, as the 
English preferred to call it, Blenheim. 
Marshal Tallard, the French com- 
mander, was taken captive together 
with the cash-box that contained the 
pay for his troops; 28,000 men were 
killed, wounded or taken prisoner ; 
among the booty were 5,400 provision 
wagons and thirty-four coaches of 
ventursome females who had come to 
lighten tlie tedium of camp life. The 
whole of Bavaria fell into the hands of 
the allies; Max Emmanuel escaped, 
but his wife and children were sent 
into exile. After Blenheim the Mar- 
grave of Baden was left to defend the 
Rhine, Eugene went to Italy, where 
he gained the splendid battle of Turin, 
and Marlborough conducted his opera- 
tions in Belgium. Archduke Charles, 
or, as he styled himself, Charles III, 
succeeded in entering Madrid and figur- 
ing for a while as King of Spain. 
Leopold died and was succeeded by- 
Joseph, one of the best and strongest 
of the Hapsburgs. 

All Europe was in conflagration at 
this time, and for many of the German 
princes it was a question in which 
struggle they should join. Charles XII 
of Sweden, in the year of Blenheim, 



deposed Augustus the strong. King of 
Poland, and placed Stanislaus Les- 
cinsky on that throne. In 1706 he in- 
vaded Saxony, and forced on Augustus 
the humiliating peace of Alt Ranstadt. 
Charles XII himself, in 1709, received 
condign punishment at Pultava from 
the hand of Peter the Great. 

In Belgium, where he was later 
assisted by Prince Eugene, Marl- 
borough won the battles of Ramilies, 
Oudenarde, and bloodiest of all, Mal- 
plaquet, at which latter place the allies, 
by a strange whim of fortune, though 
gaining the victory, lost twice as many 
in killed and wounded as their oppo- 
nents. The French were not to be 
blamed for ascribing the honors to 
themselves, and it was in these days 
that one heard in all the streets of Paris 
the mocking song, "Marlb' rough s'en 
va-t-en guerre!" At all events Mal- 
plaquet practically finished the war. 
France was on the verge of bankruptcy, 
and the few engagements that still 
took place were but a sort of com- 
mentary on the long negotiations for 
peace. 

That these negotiations lasted as long 
as they did was largely the fault of 
Marlborough ; the whig party lived by 
war, and to it the great general was not 
above catering. And now a new event 
occurred that changed the whole aspect 
of affairs and acted like an explosive 
in sundering the Austrian and English 
interests. In April, 171 1, died the 
young Emperor Joseph ; Charles III 
was now unexpectedly heir to the 
Austrian possessions and the sure can- 
didate for the imperial throne. A new 
world monarchy, like that of Charles 
V, seemed on the point of arising. 
The spectre was as frightful to England 
and Holland as had ever been the 
grandeur of Louis XIV. Philip of 
Anjou, against whose claim they had 
been fighting for so many years, seemed 




(Seepage 216.} 







\SCUailnu 




. hiEDERlCKMuGUSTU S^. \lNG of^JoLAND 



) G^LK CTOR of "'"^AXOXYc /. ^ 



'hf.jfy^ 



( See page jiO.) 



The Spanish Succession War 2 t 7 



■now the preferable candidate for the 
throne of Spain. 

Altogether in Enghind the pendidum 
had completely swung round. No in- 
sult was too great to be heaped upon 
the Marlboroughs ; even Prince Eugene 
had fallen from his pedestal. To her 
own lasting disgrace England deserted 
lier allies without warning and made 
her own terms with France, securing 
Port Mahon and Gibraltar, Newfound- 
land, Nova Scotia and Hudson's Ba}- 



Territory. The Pretender was re- 
nounced by France and obliged to seek 
a residence elsewhere. Philip V was 
acknowledged as King of Spain, Max 
Emmanuel was reinstated in all his 
possessions. Never in all history did a 
succession of defeats reap such a har- 
vest of rewards. France stood there, 
strong and aggressive as ever, with a 
Bourbon on the Spanish throne ready 
to obey her beck and call.] 



GROUP XXIII. 



CyjEEN ANNE AND 

1. Extract from Horace Walpole's 
Reminiscences. (Boston, 1S20, p. S4.) 

The beauty of the duchess of Marl- 
borough had always been of the scorn- 
ful and imperious kind ; and her feat- 
ures and air announced nothing that 
her temper did not confirm. Both 
together, her beauty and temper, en- 
slaved her heroic lord. One of her 
principal charms was a prodigious 
abundance of fine hair. One day at 
her toilet, she cut off those command- 
ing tresses and flung them in his face. 
Nor did her insolence stop there ; nor 
stop till it had totally estranged and 
worn out the patience of the poor 
queen, her mistress. The duchess was 
often seen to give her majesty her fan 
and gloves, and turn away her own 
head as if the queen had offensive 
smells. 

2. Extracts from the Correspondence 
of the Duchess of Marlborough. (Lon- 
don, 1S38, Vol. I. p I. ff.) 

^ueen Anne to the Duchess of j\/ar^- 
borotis'h. 



1703. 
It is now so late that I can only 
thank you for your letter, and congratu- 
late the Duke of Marlborough being 
well after the siege of Bon, which is 



TI[E MARLBOROUGHS. 

more pleasing news to me than all the 
conquests he can make. 

May God Almighty, that has pre- 
served him hitherto through many 
dangers, continue to do so, and send 
him safe home to his and my dear 
adored Mrs. Freeman. (Mrs. Free- 
man, the Duchess ; Mr. Freeman, the 
Duke. Qiieen Anne signs herself 
"Mrs. Morley.") 

■ Marlborough to his Wife (In Coxe, 
Life of Marlborough. London, 1820, 
Vol. I. p. 413.) 

August 13, 1704. 
I have not time to say more, but to 
beg you will give my duty to the 
Qiieen, and let her know her army has 
had a glorious victory. M. Tallard 
and two other generals are in my 
coach, and I am following the rest. 
The bearer, my aide-de-camp. Colonel 
Parke, will give her an account of 
what has passed. I shall do it in a day 
or two by another more at large. 

Marlborough. 

Tlie ^ueen to the Duchess of ^larl- 
borougJi. (Coxe II. 38.) 

Windsor, August 10-21. 
Since I sent my letter away by the 
messenger, I have had the happiness 



2i8 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 



of receiving my dear Mrs. Freeman's 
by colonel Parke, with the good news 
of this glorious victory, which, next to 
God Almighty, is wholly owing to 
dear Mr. Freeman, on whose safety I 
congratulate you with all my soul. 
May the same Providence that has 
hitherto preserved, still watch over, 
and send him well home to you. We 
can never thank God Almighty enough 
for these great blessings, but must make 
it our endeavour to deserve them ; and 
I hope he will continue his goodness to 
us in delivering us from the attempts of 
all our other enemies. I have nothing 
to add at present, but my being sin- 
cerely, etc. 

Mrs. Burnett to the Duchess. 
Aug. 12, O. S. 
Though your grace's moments are so 
valuable that I should fear to trouble 
you with my most humble thanks, 
till you had more leisure to receive 
such worthless tributes, yet I cannot 
defer letting your grace know the joy 
I see in every one I meet. The com- 
mon people, who I feared were grown 
stupid, have and do now shew greater 
signs of satisfaction and triumph, than 
I think I ever saw before on any good 
success whatever ; and after the first 
tribute of praise to God, the first cause 
of all that is good, every one studies 
who shall most exalt the duke of Marl- 
borough' s fame, by admiring the great 
secresy, excellent conduct in the design, 
and wonderful resolution and courage 
in the execution. The emperor can 
give no title * half so glorious as such 
an action. How much blood and 
treasure has been spent to reduce the 
exorbitant power of France, and to give 
a balance to Europe ; and when after 
so long a struggle the event remained 
under great uncertainty, to have the 
glory to break the chain, give the 



*Anuding to tliu title of prince. 



greatest blow to that tyranny that it 
ever had, have an emperor to owe his 
empire to the queen's armies as con- 
ducted by his grace, are splendours that 
outshine any reward they can receive. 

I do not wonder you are all joy. 
You have just cause for it, and to re- 
count every day with the utinost thank- 
fulness the amazing blessings God has 
heaped upon you. The bishop heartily 
prays for the continuance of the duke's 
success, so that the queen may have the 
greatest glory that is possible, that is 
the restoring peace and liberty to 
Europe, and what is greater, the free 
profession of the protestant religion, 
wherever it has been persecuted or 
oppressed ; and that after her, her min- 
isters, who are the instruments, may 
share in the lasting blessings and glory 
due to such benefactors to mankind. 
Sure no honest man can refuse to unite 
in such noble designs. I am really 
giddy with joy, and if I rave, you must 
forgive me. I can lament for no private 
loss, since God has given such a general 
mercy. In death it would be a matter 
of joy to me to have lived so long as to 
hear it. 

The bishop said he could not sleep, 
his heart was so charged with joy. He 
desires your grace would carefully lay 
up that little letter as a relic that cannot 
be valued enough. Some wiser people 
than myself think the nation is in so 
good a humour with this success and the 
plentiful harvest, that better circum- 
stances can hardly meet for a new par- 
liament ; and with a little care, it may 
be as good a one as the depraved 
manners of this nation is capable of. I 
pray God direct and prosper all her 
majesty's counsels and resolutions in 
this, and every thing else, and make her 
the universal protectress of truth and 
charity. And may your grace be ever 
a happy favourite, happy in all your 
advices and services, and happj- in her 




PETEK THE GREAT. 
( See pugt 216.) 




1 ....r„j,l-. 



AN ALLY OF QUEEN ANNE. 
( See page 217.) 



Oueen Anne and the Marlboroughs 219 



majesty's kind approbation and esteem ; 
and may every honest heart love you as 
well, and endeavour to serve yon as 
faithfully, as does ^-our grace's most 
obedient, etc." 



3. Letter of the Emperor Leopold to 
the Duke of Marlborough. (In Coxe, 
Vol. IL p. 21.) 

To the most illustrious Prince of Us, 
and the Holy Roman Empire, John, 
Duke of Marlborough, etc. 

I salute with pleasure your dilection 
by these titles, who so justly deserve a 
place among the princes of the empire, 
as well from your own merits as the 
honour of your noble family, and for 
your signal services to me and my 
august house, and the holy roman em- 
pire, being desirous to give you this 
public monument of honour, the great- 
est there is in Germany, and which is 
so justly conferred on you. And to 
make still more public the great obliga- 
tions I have to her britannic majesty, 
for sending so great a succour so far to 
assist me, and the empire, when our 
affairs were in so ill a posture, by the 
base revolt of Bavaria to France, and 
to your dilection, to whose prudence 
and courage, and the bravery of the 
english and other troops under your 
command, my own generals, as well as 
fame, ascribe chiefly under God, ovu" 
late successes ; I shall use my endeav- 
ours to procure your delection a place 
and vote in the diet, among the princes 
of the empire. These victories are so 
great, especially that near Hochstadt, 
over the french, which no ages can par- 
allel, that we may not only congratulate 
you on having broken the pride of 
France, defeated their pernicious at- 
tempts, and settled again the affairs of 
Germany, or rather of all Europe, after 
SO' great a shock ; but have hopes of see- 
ing the full and entire liberty of Europe 
in a short time happily restored from 



the power of France. To which end 
as I am sure nothing will be wanting 
on the part of your dilection, nothing 
remains but to wish you farther suc- 
cesses, and give you fresh assurances of 
my readiness to embrace any opportu- 
nity of shewing you with how much 

affection I am, 

Leopold. 

Given in my city of Vienna, 2S 
August, 1704. 



4. Letter of the Duke of Marlbor- 
ough to the Duchess. (In Coxe's 
Marlborough. ) 

Bruxelles, July i, 1706. 
Since my last I have had the pleasure 
of yours of the nth, as also one from 
49 (cipher for George Churchill) , in 
which he does assure me that he is de- 
sirous of doing everything that might 
please you and 91 (Godolphin). I am 
afraid there is sombody else that makes 
S2 (?). and Mrs. Morley uneasy. I do 
from my Soul wish her all the happi- 
ness in the world ; and it is certain that 
God has blessed her reign much above 
what has been for a long time. But 
we have had such a villanous race of 
vipers amongst us, that whilst she is 
admired by all people abi'oad, they are 
studying how to make her and those 
that serve her uneasy. I really am not 
concerned for myself : I could retire 
then, and live with much more pleasure 
released, if I were sure that 83 (the 
Qiieen) and 91 (Godolphin) would not 
want my service. . . . 

S^iicen. A>i7ie to the Ditchess. (In 
Cori'espondence.) 

No date. 
... I am in such haste I can say no 
more but that I am very sorry dear Mrs. 
Fi'eeman will be so unkind as not to 
come to her poor unfortunate, faithful 
Morley, ^vho loves her sincerely, and 
will do so to the last moment. 



2 20 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 



^ueett Ajine to the Duchess. (MSS. 
Commission, Sth report.) 

May 1707 (or 170S). 
... I end this with assuring you 
■with the same sincerity I should do if 
I were upon my deathbed, that I do be- 
lieve everything you tell me that you 
know of your knowledge is true, and 
that I am as tenderly fond of you as 
ever, and nothing, no, not even your 
own unkindness shall ever alter your 
own unfortunate faithfull Morley. 

^ueen Anne to the Duke. (Jb.) 
Windsor, July 23, 1708. 

. . . Tho' you say you will serve me 
as general, but not as a minister, I shall 
always look upon you as both, and 
never separate those tvv'O characters, 
but ask your advice in both capacities 
on all occasions. 

Saturday, 1 70S {sic) . 

... If ever you should forsake me, 
I would have nothing more to do with 
the world, but make another abdycation, 
for what is a crown when the support 
of it is gone. 

Oct. 35, 1709. 

. . . You seem to be dissatisfied 
with my behaviour to the Duchess of 
Marlborough. I do not love complain- 
ing, but it is impossible to help saying 
on this occasion I believe nobody was 
ever so used by a friend as I have been 
by her ever since my coming to the 
Crown. I desire nothing but that she 
would leave off teasing and tormenting 
me, and behave herself with the de- 
cency she ought both to her friend and 
Qiieen, and this I hope you will make 
her do. 

3tieen Anne to the Duchess. (In 
Correspondence of the Duchess of 
Marlborough . ) 

No date. 

I shall dine at St. James's, an it 
please God, to-morrow, and shall be 
very glad to see you there, when I am 



alone ; and be assured, whenever you 
will be the same to me you was frve 
years ago, you shall find me the same 
tender, faithful Morley. 

The Duchess to ^7ieen Anne. 

1709. 

I am very thankful for the favour of 
dear Mrs. Morley' s letter, and for the 
profession at the end of it, which de- 
serves more acknowledgments than I 
can express ; and if you shall dislike 
anything I am going to say in answer 
to it, I hope you will continue to for- 
give me, for since I wrote to you only 
as a friend, it is impossible for me 
to say the least word that I don't 
think. . . . 

I can't help renewing my request 
that you will explain without the 
trouble of writing a long answer to 
this, what it is that prevails with you 
to oppose the advice of all your old 
servants and councils, — if it be not that 
woman (Abigail, Mrs. Masham) and 
those that apply to you by her. . . . 
It looks as if nobody were too scan- 
dalous to be countenanced, that would 
but apply to this new favourite. . . . 
I think you are influenced by this 
favourite to do things that are directly 
against your own interest and safety ; 
and you seem to think that there is 
nothing of all this, and therefore I will 
take the liberty to tell you why I think 
it is so at present, and what it is that 
would make me think otherwise. 

I think the first, because every day 
shews that you dont hear my Lord 
Marlborough and Lord Godolphin as 
you used to do, and I can hardly 
believe that even now any men have 
more credit v^'ith 3-ou than they have ; 
therefore who can it be but this woman, 
for you see nobody else. And to shew 
you that I am not alone of this opinion, 
if I should ask the first ordinary man 
that I met, what had caused so great 







( 



, ^i.-.-/t-r ctn^trahC c^iwj- 



j^^l L> ~' r-f ,)uc'ccc i /ntij . . ^!.-\r ' / ■ ; \- I ". r, j;' ^.\ 2^,- 



J^uLU-L vc^r U7,' J\iiJU^ gcen .'Juaajuii.n^ch ^ rajaaii^n.. 

X^e- Schenh. fee- et exr- J-mi'tc r p ;/ ' 



^ ' / / ^. . / / 1 r 

cunt I'ri'.'ttl- .'/•./. .V^li cc -'.','r^'t - J^rii't..- 



luS- SittUs.M- Jt- 



CHARLES XII. OF SWEDEN. 
( See page 216.) 




' ^'( r^^ ^ ^nirr l/h:L^'r(/cJuv^ oj ,> ^uu///Avw/^/M\ 



Q 



ueen 



Anne and the Marlboroughs 221 



a chnnge in you, he would say that 
the reason was because you were 
grown very fond of Mrs. Masham, and 
were governed by those that governed 
her. . . . 

I had ahnost forgot to tell you of a 
new book that is come out ; the subject 
is ridiculous, and the book not well 
written, but that looks so much the 
\vorse, for it shews that the notion is 
extensively spread among all sorts of 
people. It is a dialogue between 
Madame Maintenon and Madam Mas- 
ham, in which she thanks her for her 
good endeavours to serve the King of 
France here. . . . The favourite char- 
acters are your Majesty, Mrs. Masham, 
my Lord Peterborough, and Mr. 
Harley ; and I am sure every one will 
allow that is very good attendance, in 
which I, and Lord Marlborough and 
almost every one I know are abused, 
except Mrs. Masham, Lord Peterbor- 
ough and Mr. Harley. Speaking of 
her it begins thus: — "She had a soul 
fitted for grandeur, a capacious reposi- 
tory for the confidence of royal favour ; 
she had the good fortune to be placed 
in the eye of favour, whence only her 
own merit, and sovereign's capacity of 
well judging merit, distinguished her; 
happy in a mistress deserving such a 
favourite, her mistress, in a favourite 
deserving to be suah." 

Mr. Maynwaring to the Duchess of 
Marlborough . 

1709. Monday evening. 
Soon after I came home from your 
Grace's lodgings, I had the honour of a 
visit from Lord Halifax, who had said 
yesterday that he would call upon me 
soon, if I would not be denied when he 
came. . . . There was nothing Lord 
Halifax enlarged so much upon as 
the present reports about 240 (Tlie 
Duchess herself) ; and he desired me 
to remember that he then foretold that, 
if that person and 42 (the Qiieen) 



were not soon upon better terms, 
Godolphin and the Duke of Marlbor- 
ough would be ruined. And though 
he did not pretend to know much, yet 
he could easily see that the storm was 
gathering on all sides. He said it 
was commonly reported that 240 made 
at Windsor an open complaint of hav- 
ing been worse used than 13 (Somer- 
set) or even the Bug (Kent) ; and that 
he thought was wrong. 

I said, since the fact was so, I 
thought it was no matter how much it 
was known. But, I said, one thing 
seemed strange to me, that everybody 
was now of opinion that nothing would 
go well unless 240 (The Duchess) 
were in favour; who, during the 
time of being in favour, had met witli 
hardly anything but ingratitude and ill- 
usage. . . . 



K,. The Duchess's own Account of an 
Literview with the Qiieen. (Corres- 
pondence, L 295.) 

Good Friday, April 6, 17 10. 

Upon the 6th of April, 1710, I fol- 
lowed my letter to Kensington so soon 
that Her Majesty could not write another 
harsh letter, which I found she intended ; 
I sent a page of the back stairs to 
acquaint her Majesty that I was there. 
She was alone ; however the man 
staid longer than was usual upon such 
occasions, and then told me the Queen 
would have me come in. As soon as 
I opened the door she said she was 
going to write to me. " Upon what, 
madam ? " said L 

The ^ueen. — I did not open your 
letter until just now, and I was going 
to write to you. 

Lady Marlborough. — Was there 
anything in it, madam, that you had a 
mind to answer.'' 

The ^ueen. — I think there is noth- 
ing you can have to say, but you can. 
write it. 



2 22 Queen Anne and the 



Marlborouorhs 



Lady jSFarlborongh. — Won't your 
Majesty give me leave to tell it you ? 

The ^ueen. — Whatever you have to 
say you may write it. 

Lady Mai-lborough. — Indeed, I 
■cant tell how to put such sort of things 
into writing. 

The ^ueen. — You may put it into 
writing. 

Lady MarlboroKgh. — Wont your 
Majesty allow me to tell you now I am 
here ? 

The ^iieen. — You may put it into 
writing. 

Lady Marlborough. — I believe your 
Majesty never did so hard a thing to 
anybody, as to refuse to hear them 
speak, even the meanest person that 
ever desired it. 

The ^ueen. — Yes, I do bid j^eople 
put what they have to say in writing, 
when I have a mind to it. 

Lady Marlborough. — I have noth- 
ing to say, madam, upon the subject 
that is uneasy to you ; that person is 
not, that I know of, at all concerned 
in the account that I would give you, 
which I cant be quiet till I have told 
you. 

The ^ueen. — You may put it into 
writing. 

Lady Marlborough. — There are a 
thousand lies told of me. ... I do 
assure your Majesty that there are 
several things which I have heard have 
been told to your Majesty that I have 
said of you, that I am no more capable 
of, than I am of killing my children. 

I should have said, when I began to 
speak, after she had so unnecessarily 
repeated the same thing over and over 
again, that I might put what I had to 
say in writing, when she saw I went on 
to tell her the thing, she turned her 
face from me as if she feared blushing 
upon something I might say to her. 

The ^ueen. — There are, without 
doubt, many lies told. 



Lady Alarlborongh. — Pray, madam, 
tell me what you have heard of me, 
that I may not trouble you to repeat 
more disagreeable things than neces- 
sary. 

The ^ueen. — You said you desire 
no answer, and I shall give you none. 

Lady Marlborough. — I am confi- 
dent your Majesty could not be so hard 
to me, if you could believe that 'tis 
only to do myself justice, and that I 
could convince you that I have no de- 
sign of desiring any favour you are 
averse to. 

TJie ^ueen. — I will go out' of the 
room. 

Upon which I followed her to the 
door, where she stopped, and when I 
could speak, which I could not in some 
time, for the teai-s that fell down my 
face, at which I was sorry but could 
not help it, (and I believe there are not 
many that would not have been as much 
moved at such strange usage) I appealed 
to her. ... I only beg to knovir what 
you have heard, that I might be able to 
clear myself in anything in which I 
was wronged. 

Tlie ^ueen. — You said you desire 
no answer, and I shall give you none. 



6. Extracts from Swift's Journal to 
Stella. (Sir Walter Scott's Edition of 
Swift's Works, Vols. 2 and 3.) 

1710-1 1, Jan. 7. 
.. . The Whigs, now they are fallen, 
are the inost malicious toads in the 
world. We have now had a second 
misfortune, the loss of several Virginia 
ships. I fear people will begin to think 
that nothing thrives under this ministry : 
and if the ministry can once be rendei'ed 
odious to the people, the parliament 
may be chosen Whig or Tory, as the 
queen pleases. Then I think our 
friends press a little too hard on the 
Duke of Marlborough. The country 
members are violent to have past faults 



Queen Anne and the Marlborough s 223 



inquired into, and the}- have reason ; 
but I do not observe tlie ministry' to be 
very fond of it. In my opinion, we 
have nothing to save us but a peace, 
and I am sure we can not have such a 
one as we hoped, and then the Whigs 
will bawl what they would have done 
had they continued in power. [England 
was verging towards the utterly disgrace- 
ful peace of Utrecht.] I tell the min- 
istry this as much as I dare, and shall 
venture to say a little more to them, 
especially about the Duke of Marlbor- 
ough, who, as the Whigs give out, will 
lay down his command; and I question 
whether ever any wise state laid aside a 
general who had been successful nine 
years together, vv'hom the enemy so 
much dreaded, and his own soldiers 
believe must always conquer ; and you 
know that in war opinion is nine parts 
in ten. The ministry hear me always 
with appearance of regard, and much 
kindness ; but I doubt they let personal 
quarrels mingle too much with their 
proceedings. . . . Pshaw, what is all 
this.'' Do you know one thing, that I 
find I can write politics to you much 
easier than to anybody alive ? . . . 

Jan. 12. 

. . . Lady Marlborough offers, if 
they will let her keep her employ- 
ments, never to come into the queen's 
pi-esence. The Whigs say the Duke 
of Marlborough will serve no more ; 
but I hope and think otherwise. I 
would to Heaven I were this minute 
with my dearest at Dublin ; for I am 
weary of politics that give me such mel- 
ancholy prospects. . . . 

August 19. 

The queen did not stir out to-day, 
she is in a little fit of the gout. I dined 
at Mr. Masham's. . . . The queen 
has ordered twenty thousand pounds, to 
go on with the building at Blenheim, 
which has been starved till now, since 
the change of the ministry. I suppose 



it is to reward his last action of getting 
into the French lines. [Note by Scott : 
" Before Bouchain ; a piece of general- 
ship deemed equal to almost any of his 
exploits."] 

Dec. 6. 

. . . The Duke of Marlborough has 
not seen the queen for some days past. 
Mrs. Masham is glad of it, because she 
says he tells a hundred lies to his 
friends of what she says to him : he is 
one day humble, and the next day on 
the high ropes. . . . 

Dec. 30th. 

. . . The Duke of Marlborough was 
at court to-day, and nobody hardly took 
notice of him. Masham's being a lord 
begins to take wind ; nothing at court 
can be kept a secret. 

Dec. 31 . 

... I hear the Duke of Marlborough 
is turned out of all his employments : I 
shall know to-morrow, when I am to 
carry Dr. King to dine with the secre- 
tary. — These are strong remedies ; pray 
God the patient is able to bear them. 
The last ministry people are utterly 
desperate. 

Jan. 1,171 1-12. 

. . . The queen and lord-treasurer 
mortally hate the Duke of Marlbor- 
ough, and to that he owes his fall, more 
than to his other faults : unless he has 
been tampering too far with his party, 
of which I have not heard any particu- 
lars ; however it be, the world abroad 
will blame us. I confess my belief, 
that he has not one good quality in the 
world beside that of a general, and 
even that I have heard denied by several 
great soldiers. But we have had con- 
stant success in arms while he com- 
manded. Opinion is a mighty matter 
in war, and I doubt the French think 
it impossible to conquer an army that 
he leads, and our soldiers think the 
same ; and how far even this step may 
encourage the French to play tricks 



2 24 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 



with us, no man knows. I do not love 
to see personal resentment mix with 
public affairs. . . . 

Jan. 8. 

. . . The Duke of Marlborough says, 
there is nothing he now desires so much 
as to contrive some way how to soften 
Dr. Swift. He is mistaken ; for those 
things that have been hardest against 
him were not written by me. Mr. Sec- 
retary told me this from a friend of the 
duke's; and I'm sure now he is down, 
I shall not trample on him ; although I 
love him not, I dislike his being out. 

Jan. lo. 

This was our society day you know : 
but the Duke of Ormond could not be 
with us, because he dined with Prince 
Eugene. It cost me a guinea contribu- 
tion to a poet, who had made a copy of 
verses upon monkies, applying the. story 
to the Duke of Marlborough ; the rest 
gave two guineas, except the two phy- 
sicians, who followed my example. I 
don't like this custom : the next time I 
will give nothing. 

Jan. 13. 

... I saw Prince Eugene to-day at 
court: I don't think him an ugly-faced 
fellow, but well enough, and a good 
shape. 

Jan. 23. 

I dined again to-day with the secre- 
tary, but could not despatch some busi- 
ness I had with him, he has so much 
besides upon his hands at this juncture, 
and preparing against the great business 
of to-morrow, which we are top full of. 
The minister's design is, that the Duke 
of Marlborough shall be censured as 
gently as possible, provided his friends 
will not make head to defend him, but 
if they do it may end in some severer 
votes. A gentleman, who was just 
now with him (Marlborough), tells me 
he is much cast down and fallen away ; 
but he is positive, if he has but ten 
friends in the House, that they shall de- 



fend him to the utmost, and endeavour 
to prevent the least censure upon him, 
which I think cannot be, since the bri- 
bery is manifest. Sir Solomon Medina 
paid him six thousand pounds a year to 
have the employment of providing bread 
for the army, and the duke owns it 
in his letter to the commissioner of 
accounts. . . . 

Jan. 25. 

The secretary sent to me this morning 
to know whether we should dine to- 
gether; I went to him, and there I 
learned that the question went against' 
the Duke of Marlborough, by a major- 
ity of a hundred ; so the ministry is 
mighty well satisfied, and the duke will 
now be able to do no hurt. . . . No I 
was not splenetic ; you see what plunges- 
the court has been at to set all right 
again. ... I ain of your opinion, that 
Lord Marlborough is used too hardly : I 
have often scratched out passages from 
papers and pamphlets sent me, before 
they were printed ; because I thought 
them too severe. But he is certainly a 
vile man, and has no sort of merit 
beside the military. . . . 

Feb. 10. 

I saw Prince Eugene at court to-day 
very plain. He is a plaguy yellow,, 
and literally ugly besides. 



7. Letter of the Electress Sophia to 
the Earl of Strafford (In Macpherson, 
Original Papers, Vol. II. p. 347.) 

Jan. 171 2. 

. . . The good natui^ed lord Rivers 
told me, he clearly perceived I was of 
the duke of Marlborough's party. I 
answered that if the Qiieen had made 
an ape her general, and that he had 
gained so many battles and towns, I 
would be equally for him : and I see 
that you have forgot how little I was 
obliged to his wife; and as for him- 
self, he never spoke to me of anything- 
which had any concern with the ad- 



Queen Anne and the 



Marlboroughs 225 



vantages of this house. His expres- 
sion, in speaking of the Qiieen, was 
always, that she was a very good sort 
of a woman. He repeated this fre- 
quently, and it appeared to us too low a 
commendation for so great a princess. 

JMrs. White to Mrs. Watso/i. (In 
Macpherson's Original Papers, Vol II. 
p. 371, ff.) 

Feb. 1 71 3. 

Aly lord Marlborough is very humble, 
visits every creature that has any credit. 
To General Webb he sent to know, 
when he would be at home, he would 
visit him. He sent him word, he 
never would be at home to him ; that 
he (Marlborough) had done him all 
the injustice he could when he was in 
power, and that now he would do him 
all the justice he could, which he 
thought he deserved ; and my lord 
Wharton told my loi d treasurer, that 
he played well at whist : what he could 
not make by tricks, he made up by 

knaves. 

1713. 
The birth day of the Qiieen, the 
Duke of Marlborough was in a chair 
in St. James's Park, with the curtains 
drawn : the mob, that believed it to be 
the Prince Eugene, huzza' d the chair; 
but the duke modestly drew back the 
curtains and put himself out, and with 
a sign shewed his dislike to the saluta- 
tion. The mob, finding their mistake, 
and that it was he, cried out, " Stop 
thief," which was a thorough mortifi- 
cation to him. His daughters, that 
day, to shew their contempt of the 
court, were in wrapping-gowns at a 
window in St. James's to see the com- 
pany pass, two of them, and the other 
two drove through the Pall-mall four 
times, in the worst mob-dress they 
could put themselves. The duke was 
in a black suit, that day, and his son- 
in-law, the duke of Montague, was at 
court in a plain, coarse, red coat, with 



a long shoulder-knot, in ridicule of the 
day ; but the Qiieen had the satisfac- 
tion to see the most splendid court 
that ever was, and crowded more than 
ever by all the church, nobility and 
gentry. There was a short uproar. 
My lord Marlborough finds his levees 
much thinner than they were, and daily 
less and less. The people are disgusted 
at him. In a little time he will be 
odious to them. How they huzza the 
Duke of Ormond, who loves popularity 
too well. Prince Eugene wears the 
sword the Qiieen gave him ever since 
the birth-day ; it is worth 6000/. He 
has had his answer from the third day 
he was here. The court wish him 
gone. 

Szviff s Journal. 

Oct. 38. 
. . . Here is the Duke of Marlbor- 
ough going out of England (Lord 
knows why), which causes many spec- 
ulations. Some say he is conscious of 
guilt, and dare not stand it. Others 
think he has a mind to fling an odium 
on the government, as who should say, 
that one, who has done such great ser- 
vices to his country, cannot live quietly 
in it, by reason of the malice of his 
enemies. I have helped to patch up 
these people together once more. God 
knows how long it may last. . . . 

Jan. 6, 1713-13, 
. . . The Duchess of Marlborough 
is leaving England, to go to her duke, 
and makes presents of rings to several 
friends, they say worth two hundred 
pounds a piece. I am sure she ought 
to give me one, though the duke pre- 
tended to think me his greatest enemy, 
and got people to tell me so, and very 
mildly to let me know how gladly he 
would have me softened toward him. 
I bid a lady of his acquaintance and 
mine let him know, that 1 had hindered 
many bitter things against him ; not for 



2 26 Queen Anne and the Marlboroughs 



his own sake, but because I thought it 
looked base ; and I desired everything 
should be left him, except power. 
Night, MD. . . . 

April 1 1 . 
I dined at lord-treasurer's, with his 
Saturday company. We had ten at 
table, all lords but myself and the chan- 
cellor of the exchequer. . . . Lord- 
treasurer showed us a small picture, 
enamelled work, and set in gold, worth 
about twenty pounds ; a picture, I 
mean, of the queen, which she gave to 
the Duchess of Marlborough, set in 
diamonds. When the duchess was 
leaving England, she took off all the 
diamonds, and gave the picture to 
one Mrs. Higgins (an old intriguing 
woman, whom everybody knows), bid- 
ding her make the best of it she could. 
.Lord-treasurer'sent to Mrs. Higgins for 
this picture, and gave her a hundred 
pounds for it. Was ever such an un- 
grateful beast as that duchess? or did 
you ever hear such a story,' I suppose 
the Whigs will not believe it. Pray, 
try them. , She takes off the diamonds, 
and gives away the picture to an in- 
significant womau, as a thing of no 
consequence : and gives it to her to 
sell, like a piece of old-fashioned plate. 
Is she not a detestable slut.' Night, 
dear MP , , 

8. Characteristics of Qiieen Anne as 
drawn by the Duchess. (Correspond- 
ence, p. 1 19.) 

Qiieen Anne had a person and ap- 
pearance not at all ungraceful, till she 
grew exceeding gross and corpulent. 
There was something of majesty in her 
look, but mixed with a sullen and con- 
stant frown, that plainly betrayed a 
gloominess of soul, and a cloudiness of 
disposition within. She seemed to in- 
herit a good deal of her father's mo- 
roseness, which naturally produced in 
her the same sort of stubborn positive- 



ness in many cases, both ordinary and 
extraordinary, as well as the same sort 
of bigotry in religion. 

Her memory was exceeding great, 
almost to a wonder, and had these two 
peculiarities very remarlvable in it, that 
she could, whenever she pleased, forget 
what others would have thought them- 
selves obliged by truth and honour 
to reinember, and remember all such 
things as others would think it an hap- 
piness to forget. Indeed she chose to 
retain in it very little besides ceremo- 
nies and customs of courts, and such 
like insignificant' trifles ; so that her 
conversation, which otherwise might 
have been enlivened by so great a 
memory, was only made the more 
empty and trifling by it, chiefly turn- 
ing upon fashions and rules of preced- 
ence, or observations upon the weather, 
or some such poor topics, without any 
variety or entertainment. Upon which 
account it was a sort of unhappiness to 
her that she naturally loved to have a 
great crowd come to her ; for when 
they were come to Court, she never 
cared to have them come in to her, nor 
to go out herself to them, having little 
to say to them, but that it was either 
hot or cold ; and little to enquire of 
them, but how long they had been in 
town, or the like weighty matters. She 
never discovered any readiness of parts, 
either in asking questions, or in giving 
answers. In matters of ordinary ino- 
ment, her discourse had nothing of 
brightness or wit ; and in weightier 
matters, she never spoke but in a hurry, 
and had a certain knack of sticking to 
what had been dictated to her, to a 
degree often very disagreeable, and 
without the least sign of understanding 
or judgment. 

Her letters were very indifferent, both 
in sense and spelling, unless they were 
generally enlivened with a few passion- 
ate expressions, ^ sometimes pretty 




n 










KcffiiM^^/r.!/-^ XKlll'}ttc <!^i:nLL) C i/ui 



/z.'o iJi/ii. ir'iPZ, 

I. J'mtiA fC et £X- 



Oueen Anne and the Marlboroughs 227 



enough, but repeated over and over 
again, without the mixture of any- 
thing either of diversion or ins- 
truction. 

Her civility and good manners in con- 
versation (to which the education of 
great persons naturally leads) were 
general enough, till in her latter days 
her new friends untaught her these 
accomplishments and then her whole 
deportment was visibly changed to that 
degree, that when some things disagree- 
able to her own honour or passion have 
been laid before her, she would descend 
to the lowest and most shocking 
forms of contradiction ; and what, in 
any of a meaner station, would have 
been esteemed the height of unpolite- 
ness. 

Her friendships were flames of ex- 
travagant passion, ending in indiffer- 
ence or aversion. Her love to the 
Prince seemed, in the eye of the \vorld, 
to be pi-odigiously great ; and great as 
was the passion of her grief, her 
stomach was greater ; for that very day 
he died she eat three very large and 
hearty meals, so that one would think 
that as other persons' grief takes away 
their appetites, her appetite took away 
her grief. Nor was it less remarkable 
where there was so great an appearance 
of love, the peculiar pleasure she took 
before his f unei'al in settling the order 
of it, and naming the persons that were 
to attend, and placing them according 
to their rank and to the rules of pre- 
cedence, which was the entertainment 
she gave herself every day till that sol- 
emnity was over. 

I know that in some libels she has 
been reproached as one who indulged 
herself in drinking strong liquors, but 
I believe this was utterly groundless, 
and that she never went beyond such 
a quantity of strong wines as her 
physicians judged to be necessary for 
her. 



9. Letter of the Duchess of Marl- 
borough '' to Mr. Cooke at the Bank." 

April 6, 1742. 
Sir : I have received a letter from 
Mr. Dodridge, a gentleman that I know 
not ; but he seems to me to be a well- 
wisher to my family. He writes a good 
deal to me, and expresses satisfaction 
in the reading the book (a defence of 
herself written in 1743), which proves 
the falsities that have been spread by 
party against me ; but wishes that I 
had added two things more to the clear- 
ing my character ; which are as follows : 
— first, concerning the King of Prussia, 
that he had writ a book in which he 
imputes the ruin of Europe to have 
happened from a quarrel between 
Qiieen Anne and me about a pair of 
gloves. I did once hear there \/as such 
a book printed, and that his Majesty 
said, the Qiieen would have her gloves 
made before mine, which I would not 
suffer the glover to do. The other 
report, which he mentions, is, that her 
Majesty was reconciled to the Duke of 
Marlborough and me before her death. 
The letter does not mention what we 
did to compass this great favour ; but 
it seems to think it was from doing 
some very infamous thing. As to this 
story, I can only answer that I never 
heard one word of it before ; that the 
letter says, that we came into England, 
the end of July, 1714; the Qiieen died 
the 1st of August, and we did not come 
into England until after her death, and, 
as to the King of Prussia's history, I 
have heard it was some other person 
that wrote it for him, and called it the 
King of Prussia's. I will not pretend 
to say anything in contradiction to his 
parts if he did write it ; but I think it 
is impossible for anybody to answer all 
the nonsense that has been laid to the 
charge of kings and ministers, and as 
to these two stories there is not the least 
foundation for either. 



228 



The Hanoverian Succession 



GROUP XXIV. 



THE HANOVERIAN SUCCESSION. 



I . Letters of Sophia of Osnabruck to 
her Brother, Charles Louis of the Pala- 
tinate. Translation. (In Brief wechsel 
derHerzogin Sophie. Leipzig: Hirzel, 
1SS5, p. 36i,ff.) 

Osnabruck, June 30, 1679. 

When one begins to grow old it seems 
as if one always had to tight with some 
ill or other. If it had not been the fever 
it would have been something else — 
perhaps a leg-trouble like yours, or 
Prince Rupert's or the Abbess of Her- 
ford's. Such is the common fate of 
humanity, to see onesself decay while 
others are being born to supersede us, 
to whom, nevertheless, we grow so 
stiongly attached that we must see them 
comfortably established before quitting 
them. 

Ernest Augustus [her husband], who 
often has bad turns has taken into his 
head that he might die before his 
brothers [John Frederick of Hanover 
and George William of Celle] and leave 
no fit provision for his children. The 
Celle people have now long been offer- 
ing him 50,000 ecus in sovereignty and 
100,000 down if he will consent to the 
marriage of my eldest son [the future 
George I.] with the daughter of George 
William [Sophie Dorothea] . The mar- 
riage is repugnant to the boy, as is the 
d'Olbreuse connection to us, though 
Miss Hyde was of no better family ; 
besides which the girl has been twice 
legitimatized : these considerations make 
it only right that they should raise the 
amount. What would you think of 
80,000 ecHS a year in sovereignty to 
Ernest Augustus; ought he to con- 
taminate his ancestors for that, and is it 
paying them well enough.'' And they 
offer that the whole army [of Celle] 
shall swear allegiance to Ernest Augus- 
tus, that no officer shall be put in the 



fortresses who has not taken oath to him^ 
and the whole land shall do him hom- 
age and obey him only, even should sons 
be born to George William. [The latter 
had married far beneath him, after hav- 
ing been affianced to Sophia herself and 
having promised all his lands to Ernest 
Augustus if he would become his sub- 
stitute.- — Ed.] All this wont make it 
any more pleasant to me to be brother 
and boon companion to a scoupette. 

Osnabruck, Nov. 9, 1679. 
... I have spoken to Mr. Coppensten 
(an official of Charles Louis) concern- 
ing the proposition that has been made 
to us from Celle. It is a very bitter pill 
to swallow but if they have gilded it 
with 100,000 ectis yearly , in sovereignty, 
we will close our eyes and take it. The 
example of the Prince of Orange makes 
it easier to bear and Ernest Augustus, 
says "the Lord is calling him." My 
six sons are growing up, he himself is 
in bad health and would like to see them 
well established and secure of the succes- 
sion so as to have his mind at rest. As. 
to me I find the matter very disagreeable, 

Osnabruck, Nov. 30, 1679. 
Your approbation concerning the 
" ancestors" is of no small importance ; 
kacken gat vor all and eat one must, 
even if the rest has to come after. 
Nevertheless it is a disagreeable matter, 
although there is a precedent in the 
marriage of the prince of Orange whose' 
wife is of no better birth nor descended 
from a more chaste mother. Besides 
she only brings him a kingdom in 
prospect, whereas here we ask like 
Jodelet : " Is it cash down.?" And if 
it is not, that is, if we are not well 
assured of what we are to receive, there 
will be no marriage. 



The Hanoverian Succession 



229 



Hanover, March 15, 16S0. 
[Ernest Augustus has succeeded to 
the duchy of Hanover, by the death of 
his brother, John Frederick. — Ed.] 

Beliold us arrived in our princely 
palace where it smokes so in every 
room that we weep for the defunct 
without anv difficulty and much to our 
•own discomfort. We have such a 
crowd of retainers that it can be com- 
pared in a small way to what I saw at 
Fontainbleu. If John Frederick gave 
go, 000 thalers in wages, Ernest Au- 
gustus will doubtless have to give more 
than a hundred thousand ; and, as he 
looks at this cortege he can say to him- 
self : a pretty bill I shall have to pay. 
When we go up or down one of the 
steps, which are not broad enough to 
let a hen pass in comfort we have to 
wait an hour before they all file by. 
The old- squires whose wages were a 
pair of boots and a dinner of stockjisch 
did just as good service and were better 
suited to our palace of wood. Those 
were times when the princes sat quietly 
round a table weaving nets, with their 
servants standing in a row behind them, 
while the goblet of Broihan wine, of 
which a cask stood ready in the room, 
went the rounds from the prince to the 
last of his gentlemen who, with a 
deep bow, brought it back to the prince 
again. That is the way they passed 
their days in perfect comfort. At 
present Ernest Augustus finds himself 
so overwhelmed with matters to at- 
tend to that he often wishes John Fred- 
erick were not dead. All the same if 
he were to come back he would act 
like Pickelhering, — v^'ithout comparing 
them- — when he cries out " mein 
Mouder, mein Mouder ! " whose ghost 
he sees appearing. I wish the defunct 
might see all the ceremonies with 
which he is to be put in the ground : 
it u'ould be perfect paradise for him. 
The catafalque where the Bishop and 



the capuchins are to play their last role 
cannot be ready in four weeks. Mean- 
while the dowager is travelling and they 
would like to have everything ready 
before she arrives. . . . ' 



3. Extract from Burnet. 

1689. 

. . . There was a bill of great 
importance sent up by the commons to 
the lords, that was not finished this ses- 
sion. It was a bill declaring the rights 
and liberties of England, and the suc- 
cession to the crown, as bad been 
agreed by both houses of parliament, 
to the king and queen and their issue, 
and after them, to the princess Anne 
and her issue, and after these, to the 
king and his issue. A clause was in- 
serted, disabling all papists from suc- 
ceeding to the crown, to which the 
lords added, or such as should marrv 
papists. . . . The king ordered me to 
propose the naming the duchess of 
Hanover, and her posterity, next in the 
succession. He signified his pleasure 
in this also to the ministers. But he 
ordered me to begin the motion in the 
house, because I had already set it on 
foot. And the duke of Hanover had 
now other thoughts of the matter, and 
was separating himself from the inter- 
ests of France. The lords agreed to 
the proposition without any opposition. 
So it was sent down to the commons. 
There were great debates there upon 
it. . . . The bill fell for that time: 
but it was resolved to take it up at the 
opening of the next session. And the 
king thought it was not then convenient 
to renew the motion of the duchess of 
Hanover, of which he ordered me to 
write her a particular account. It was 
fit once to have the bill passed, that en- 
acted the perpetual exclusion of all 
papists: for that, upon the matter, 
brought the succession to their door. 
And if any in the line, before her. 



230 



The Hanoverian Succession 



should pretend to change, as it was not 
very likely to happen, so it would not 
be easily believed. So it was resolved 
to carry this matter no further at this 
time. The bill passed without any op- 
position in the beginning of the next 
session ; which I mention here, that I 
might end this matter all at once. 



3. Correspondence of Leibnitz and 
the Electress Sophia. ( Leibnitz, Werke, 
Vol. VIII.) 

Leibnitz to the Electress. 

April 28, 1699. 
. . . He, (a Mr. Hakeman) seeks 
the privilege of being presented to your 
Electoral Highness. He can tell you 
particulars about the Duke of Glouces- 
ter, and I find him well-informed ; he 
has also seen the cleverest people in 
England. He says that the English are 
thinking and talking a great deal about 
the person and posterity of your Elec- 
toral Highness in the matter of the suc- 
cession, informing themselves carefully 
about our court; also that several bish- 
ops asked him for a copy of an extract 
from a letter I had written him in 
which I had noted how much your 
Electoral Highness loved the English 
and how you were for a reasonable 
freedom of thought both in ecclesiasti- 
cal and civil matters. And he will be 
able to say still more. . . . 

The Electress to Leibnitz. 
Herrenhausen, Aug. 18, 1700. 
... They say that the Duke of 
Celle will go to Loo, where he can 
console the King for the loss of the 
Duke of Gloucester, who decamped 
three days after they had celebrated his 
birthday. I hope that the pleasures of 
Lietzenburg will succeed better and 
have better results. ... If I were 
younger I might be flattered at the idea 
of a crown, but at present, if I had the 
choice, I should prefer increasing my 
years to increasing my glory. 



Stepney .1 an English Erie?td, to the 
Electress. 
London, Sept. 11-21, 1700. 

... It is to your Electoral High- 
ness, then, that we must look for the 
assurance of our repose and safety, and 
would to Heaven, Madame, that I could 
take off twenty years of my own life- 
and make you a present of them. . . . 
Electress Sophia to Stepney. 

(Without date.) 

Sir : I have read with much pleasure 
the book and your letter ; I would the 
arguments were as probable of the one 
as the other is obliging towards me, 
and that I might live long enough to> 
requite by services the affection which 
you show me, without derrogating a 
moment from your years, with which 
you seem to me to be inclined to be too 
liberal. Certainly amiability could not 
go further. . . . 

Were I thirty years younger I should 
have a good enough opinion of my 
blood and my religion to imagine they 
would think of me in England. But 
as there is little chance of my surviving 
two persons much younger, although 
in poorer health than myself, it is to 
be feared that after my death they will 
regard my sons as strangers, the elder, 
indeed, being much more inclined to 
play the sovereign than the poor prince 
of Wales [the Pretender], who is too 
young to profit by the example of the 
King of France, and who would be 
likely to be so glad at recovering what 
the King his father inconsiderately lost 
that they might do whatever they pleased 
with him. But Prevention does, every- 
thing in England, and to keep to what 
3'ou say about it, without starting in to 
discuss it by letter I would say that my 
daughter has dragged me hei'e, where 
she has been taking the waters for three 
weeks and that we start Monday to go 
by way of Brussels to Holland, where 





I! in.^irtu^nt /<_ i Rou d iluia L S,uKtC '. 

J III I III LiUI it U, , I II I 

I lu i nhj-^. 



L^iT-i^ -H T— Itm mri'ii 



1 




























1 




' 




1 1 




^'1 J..iu.'\iiiiu- li Gau-i'c ,ln-^ M .'I H C M h It F I. B OV Silllil ,-/ Coiii^'''. 1-74.^, 



Ur.tff f'ctf I'tjupien 



The Hanoverian Succession 



231 



we sliall have the honor of seeing the 
King. 

I am neither so philosophical nor so 
giddy as you might think not to like 
to hear this matter of a crown dis- 
cussed, and to reflect on your sound 
arguments on the subject. It seems to 
me that in England there are so many 
factions one can be sure of nothing. 
That does not keep me from feeling 
very much obliged to those who show 
attachment to me and my descendants, 
and as regards you in particular I shall 
remember it all my life. . . . 



4. Unsigned and undated Letter, 
in English, to the Electress Sophia. 

Madam : I have of late forborn im- 
portuning you by my letters, being 
rather desirous to show my zeal by ser- 
vices than by words. To-morrow 
comes on the grand debate which is to 
decide the point of succession whereon 
depend the hopes of all honest men. I 
am not of the parliament, but have had 
a greater opportunity (than if I had been 
in the House) to promote, as far as a 
private man can do, the interest of Your 
Electoral Highness and your family, 
being equally acquainted with both 
parties, and having thereby a singular 
occasion of discovering their different 
designs and inclinations. That Your 
Highness may perceive I am no stranger 
to them, I beg leave to represent you 
the method wherein I believe the House 
will proceed. 

Tiie party which has been known by 
the name of Whigs (not to mention par- 
ticular names)will propose the question 
as follows : — 

" it is the opinion of this committy 
" that for the peace and happiness of 
" England and for the security of the 
" protestant religion it is absolutely 
" necessary that a further declar- 
" ation of the Limitation and suc- 
" cession of the Crown of England 



" be made in the Protestant Line 
"after the King and the Princess 
" and the failure of the Heirs of their 
" Bodies respectively. 
The words : "Further declaration in 
the protestant line" will furnish some 
matter of dispute, and the Tories will 
raise objections. But if they continue 
violent, the Whigs will propose an 
hampering question to this effect : " that 
for the quieting the minds of His Maj- 
esty's protestant subjects and the better 
ascertaining the succession of the Crown 
pursuant to an Act declaring the Rights 
and Liberties of the subjects and set- 
tling the succession of the Crown, pro- 
vision be made by express words for 
excluding any child or pretended child 
of the late King James, other than the 
Princess Anne of Denmark." — This 
will certainly be carried by a majority, 
for whatever people may be in their 
hearts, few will appear so open at this 
time as to declare for St. Germains, 
which those do in effect who dissent 
from the question as it is here stated. 

A weak effort will be made in favour 
of the person of prince George, suppos- 
ing he should survive the Princess of 
Denmark. Your Electoral Highness 
will easily imagine that this motion 
proceeds from creatures of the Marl- 
borough family. But their interest is 
not of any weight, besides the preten- 
sion is groundless. But from that error 
we shall be led into the right channel, 
and come into the direct protestant 
Line, beginning from j'our Electoral 
Highness as the root, then to the 
Elector and the Electoral prince. This 
I am as morally assured of, as it is pos- 
sible to be in a matter of this nature, 
which depends on the humours and 
wills of 513 members. It is our happi- 
ness that the major part of them are 
honest and true to the interest of their 
country, and those that are otherwise, 
will only discover their ill-will. 



232 



The Hanoverian Succession 



I forbear mentioning the other princes 
of Your Highness' family. The two 
who are at Vienna seem to obstruct (at 
least for the present) a further entail 
upon a suggestion which, I am per- 
suaded, is very malicious, as if they 
were not firm to the protestant religion, 
which is the foundation of this debate. 
This is an unhappy accident, but what 
I have already mentioned, is a sufficient 
provision for the present and will be 
matter of comfort to all good men. 

The contents of this letter ai-e of so 
delicate a nature at this conjuncture and 
till the parliament has actuallj' declared 
their opinion, that I beg leave to con- 
ceal my name : my hand and heart have 
the honour to be known to your Elect- 
oral Highness, and no man living can 
be with more zeal and veneration. 
Madam, Your Electoral Highness' most 
humble and most obedient servant. 

Stepney to Leibnitz. 

Vienna, May i, 1701. 
. . . The matter of which your letter 
treats [the vote of parliament], was 
concluded exactly the day that I left 
London, and in the way which I sup- 
posed it would in the second letter 
which I had the honour of writing to 
the Electress on this subject. I have 
just been congratulating her with all 
my heart ; for besides the advantage 
which will accrvie to her house through 
this declaration of Parliament, I look 
upon it as the best step which our 
nation could take to secure our religion 
and our quiet, in spite of the anger 
which the Duke of Savoy and others 
may feel ; for it is beyond all doubt 
that a disposition made by a King full 
of life and good sense, with the con- 
sent of the States of the realm, is a 
hundred times more valid than that 
which has just been made b}' a Prince 
weak in every respect and a cabal of 
interested people. 



The English nation was so well dis- 
posed to the succession, at the King's 
recommendation, that there was no 
need of pamphlets to prepare men's 
minds, or of men of talent to conduct 
the affair ; otherwise I am persuaded 
that they could not have chosen for that 
service a person more capable than 
yourself. . . . Since the affair has gone 
off so well, we have all the better 
reason to be satisfied. 



5. Extract from Burnet. 

1705. 

. . . The most important debates 
that were in this session began in the 
house of lords ; the queen being present 
at them all. The lord Haversham . . . 
said we had declared a successor to 
the crown who v\'as at a great distance 
from us, while the pretender was much 
nearer, and Scotland was armed and 
ready to receive him, and seemed I'e- 
solved not to have the same successor 
for whom England had declared : these 
were threatening dangers that hung 
over us, and might be near us. He 
concluded, that he did not see how they 
could be prevented, and the nation made 
safe, by any other way, but by inviting 
the next successor to come and live 
among us. ... It appeared, through 
our whole history, that whosoever came 
first into England had always carried 
it : the pretending successor might be 
in England within three days, whereas 
it might be three weeks before the de- 
clared successor could come : from 
thence it was inferred, that the danger 
was apparent and dreadful, if the suc- 
cessor should not be brought over : if 
King Charles had been in Spain when 
the late king died, probably that would 
have prevented all this war in which 
we were now engaged. . . . 

The queen heard the debate, and 
seemed amazed at the behaviour of 
some, who, when they had credit with 



The Hanoverian Succession 



233 



lier, and apprehended that snch a 
motion might be made by the whigs, 
had possessed her with deep prejudices 
against it : for they made her appre- 
hend, that when the next successor 
should be brought over, she herself 
would be so eclipsed by it, that she 
would be much in the successor's 
power, and reign only at her or his 
courtes)' : yet these very persons, hav- 
ing now lost their interest in her, and 
their posts, were driving on that very 
motion, which they had made her ap- 
prehend was the most fatal thing that 
could befall. This the Duchess of 
Marlborough told me, but she named 
no person. . . . 

Some indigent persons, and others 
employed by the tories, had studied to 
infuse jealousies of the queen and her 
ministers into the old electress. She 
-was then seventy-five ; but had still so 
much vivacity, that as she was the 
most knowing, and the most entertain- 
ing woman of the age, so she seemed 
willing to change her scene, and to 
■come and shine among us here in Eng- 
land ; they prevailed with her to write 
a letter to the archbishop of Canterbury, 
intimating her readiness to come over, 
if the queen and parliament should de- 
sire it ; this was made public by the in- 
triguing persons in that court. 



6. Letter of the Electress Sophia to 
the Archbishop of Canterbury. Trans- 
lation . 

Herrenhausen, Nov. 5, 1705. 

My Lord : . . . I thank Heaven that 
I am in good health and that I live here 
in peace and quiet, so that I have no 
reason to wish for a different kind of 
life, so far as I personally am concerned. 

However I am ready to do anything 
that my friends desire of me in case 
Parliament should think it necessary for 
me to cross the water. In that case I 
trust such measures could be taken that 
my arrival would in no way be unpleas- 



ant for the Q_ueen, whom I shall never 
cease to honor, and that I am eager for 
the favour of which she has given me so 
many proofs by what she has done 
for me in England and Scotland, you 
yourself can best bear witness ; and it is 
with much pleasui'e that I learn that her 
Majesty has ordered my name to be 
inserted in the prayers in the churches. 



7. Letter of Leibnitz to the Rheingra- 
vine, Lady of the Household of the 
Electress. 

Wolfenbuttel, Sept. i, 171 2. 
Madame : I take the liberty of send- 
ing your Excellency the enclosed English 
memorandum to be communicated to the 
Electress as a mark of my devotion. It 
is sent me by a former German acquaint- 
ance who resides in England and has 
been drawn up, he says, by a lawyer of 
skill and reputation, who, with his 
friends is very loyal to the House of 
Hanover. His name is Roger Acherly 
Esquire. . . . 

JSIciuoir. 

Sept. I, 171 2. 
That in regard the Qrieen of Gieat 
Britain has solemnly declared from the 
Throne : that the securing the succession 
to that House lyes nearest her Heart, 
and that she has taken care, that the 
Person who pretends to disturb it, be 
removed out of the French Dominions : 
Now in regard these expressions are 
general : 

Let it be insisted on at the General 
Treaty of Peace ( Utrecht) on the 
fart of the House of Hanover : That 
the successor, or one or more of that 
House, may have a House a?id a 
Revenue assigiied to them in Eng- 
land, and may have a?i Attorney 
General and other Officers assigned 
to them to take care of their Affairs, 
as the first Princes of the Blood. 
This will try those Ministers who 
advised the Qiieen to make that speech, 



234 



The Hanoverian Succession 



whether they really meant anything for 
the Good of the House of Hanover or 
not. 

If the British Plenipotentiaries oppose 
such a reasonable Article, 

Then the Mouse of Hanover 7nay 
take their tneasures. If it be reason- 
able to insist that the Pretender should 
be removed out of the Dominions of the 
Enemy (France), it is as reasonable to 
insist that the Rightfull Successor should 
have a Room and be within the Domin- 
ions he is entitled to. 

The presence of the next Successor 
would encourage and inspirit his Friends 
and discourage his Enemies. Posses- 
sion in this case is of inestimable advan- 
tage. The refusal of such a Reasonable 
Demand would give the successor a very 
good colour to complaine and would 
load his enemies with obloquy, as 
secretly endeavouring to deprive him. 

Leibnitz to the Electress Sophia. 
(Undated.) 

. . . They keep saying that the Qiieen 
of Great Britain is dead. I shall not 
believe it until she is buried. It would 
be a queer idea of the good God to give 
her your Electoral Highness as succes- 
sor. Altogether, Madame, God's good- 
ness towards you is so great that one 
need not give up hoping. Your Elec- 
toral Highness and I (if I may dare to 
include myself) will wait very patiently 
for what He has decreed about it. Un- 
less one of those gentlemen of the 
British ministry writes to your Electoral 
Highness I will not believe that the 
Queen is so far gone. 

The Electress Sophia to Leibnitz. 
Hanover, April 27, 1713. 
. . . Poor Dr. Hutton had so 
often preached to me that the Queen 
could not live. She is well, while he 
is already in the other world. I be- 
lieve I remain so long in this one be- 
cause I keep my mind so tranquil. I 



have lost so many children from my^ 
sight, yet their loss touches me as little 
as could well be the case. I have also 
to console myself for the fact that the 
one who is living (George I.) can not 
bear the sight of me any more and 
wishes to live as if he were dead to 
me. The worst of it is that I think he 
is in the hands of the Devil who does- 
wicked things with him, while the 
others are with the good God. 

The Electress Sophia to Leibnitz. 
Hanover, Dec. 27, 1713- 
You may be sure. Sir, that of all the 
letters this festal time has procured me 
yours has been the most welcome. You 
do well to begin your good wishes with 
the throne of England, for in truth 
they are there most needed, and in spite 
of all the fine things your newspapei-s 
tell you, it seems to me every thing is 
going from bad to worse. As for me, 
I am a woman and love to flatter my- 
self and I hope that the worst of mat- 
ters will turn out to the advantage of 
the family. I accept your comparison 
with Qiieen Elizabeth, although it does- 
me too much honor, as of good au- 
gury. Her right was disputed by a 
jealous and ill-humored sister and she 
was never sure of it until she came to 
the throne. 

The Electress Sophia to Leibnitz. 
Hanover, Feb. 29, 1714. 
. . . The romance of the Princess 
Eleanor has at last ended with marriage 
and will have a fine place, as he tells 
me, in the Duke of Brunswick's novel, 
at which he is still working so as to 
finish it before his death. As for 
mine, it would be more glorious if, 
accoi'ding to your wishes, my bones 
might be interred at Westminster. 
. . . All this talk of the succession 
vexes and annoys me. So many books 
are written for or against that I dont 
take the trouble to look at them. . . . 




s 



Vtro Nobilli?iiiiio lOAlSnSri AVALRAVEX^ereniriimi Elecloris 
BrMnfvicenUs ^iLuJietur oVnfis Conl'i ! i ario E jicsque R-crtdejiti Amftela-eda^ii DD . 



The Hanoverian Succession 



22>S 



March 7. 
. . . Qiieen Anne is splendidly 
well. She will have to hiiny up and 
die if I am to be queen as you desire. 

Lcibtiitz to the Electress Sophia. 

April 7, 1 714. 
... If Mr. Harley is delayed by 
the weight of the chests of silver he is 
bringing to enable your Electoral High- 
ness to have a fine English court, as 
they say he is in the papers, we will 
pardon him his slowness. ... If he 
merel}' comes to preach to us that the 
Protestant succession is in no danger 
he might have kept his arguments for 
the Coffee-houses of London. 

The Electress to Leibnitz. 
Hanover, May 20th, 1714. 
. . . Mr. Harley' s mission con- 
sisted only in letters of the Qiieen and 
my Lord of Oxford who say very posi- 
tively that her Majesty is altogether in 
favor of furthering the Protestant re- 
ligion by the succession in our house — 
this in the most explicit terms that 
could be employed. Nevertheless the 
people thought Harley had come to in- 
vite me to go to England ; of which 
indeed there was not the least mention. 
... I did however, order Baron 
Schiitz to ask the chancellor if the 
Electoral Prince [later George II] as 
Duke of Cambridge ought not to have 
a writ of summons to parliament. The 
Chancellor . . . sent the writ to 
Schiitz. But afterwards the Qiieen 
had Cotterel forbid him the Court. 
. . . Mr. Harley offered me a pen- 
sion from the Qiieen, which I was hon- 
est enough to refuse, saying that I de- 
sired one by the good pleasure of her 
Majesty and the parliament, as heir 
presvmiptive of the throne, in imitation 
of her Majesty, who did the same 
when she was offered one by King 
William. . . . The Q_ueen seems to 
be pretty well, and, according to the 



Flemisli proverb " creaking carts go 
far." As to me, I consider myself in 
much greater danger, being past 83, 
although feeling splendidl)- for that. 

9. Letter of Qiieen Anne to the 
Elector of Hanover (George I.). (In 
Macpherson's Original Papers. Lon- 
don, 1775. Vol. II. p. 621.) 

May 19-30, 1 7 14. 

As the rumour increases, that my 
cousin, the Electoral Prince, has re- 
solved to come over to settle, in my life 
time, in my dominions I do not choose 
to delay a moment to write to you 
about this, and to communicate to 3'ou 
my sentiments, upon a subject of this 
importance. 

I then freely own to you, that I 
cannot imagine, that a prince who 
possesses the knowledge and penetra- 
tion of your Electoral Highness, can 
ever contribute to such an attempt ; and 
that I believe you are too just to allow, 
that any infringement shall be made on 
my sovereignty which you would not 
choose should be made on your own. 
I am firmly persuaded that you would 
not suffer the smallest diminution of 
your authority. I am no less delicate 
in that respect ; and I am determined 
to oppose a project so contrary to my 
royal authority, however fatal the con- 
sequences may be. 

Your Electoral Highness is too just 
to refuse to bear me witness, that I 
gave, on all occasions, proofs of my 
desire that your family should succeed 
to my crowns, which I always recom- 
mend to my people as the most solid 
support of their religion and their laws. 
I employ all my attentions that nothing 
should efface those impressions from 
the hearts of my subjects : but it is not 
possible to derogate from the dignity 
and prerogatives of the prince who 
wears the crown, without making a 
dangerous breach on the rights of the 
successors ; therefore, I doubt not. 



236 



The Hanoverian Succession 



but with your usual ■wisdom, you will 
prevent the taking such a step ; and 
that you will give me an opportunity of 
renewing to you, assurances of the 
most sincere friendship with which 
I am, etc. 

Dean Szvift to the Earl of Peterbor- 
ough. 

(Swift's Works. Sir Walter Scott's 
Edition. Vol. XVI. p. 109.) 

London, May iS, 17 14. 
... I was told, the other day, of an 
answer you made to somebody abroad, 
who inquired of you the state and dis- 
positions of our court: "That you 
could not tell, for you had been out of 
England a fortnight." . . . The queen 
is pretty well at present ; but the least 
disorder she has puts all in alarm ; and 
wfhen it is over, we act as if she were 
immortal. ... It is impossible to tell 
you whether the Prince of Hanover in- 
tends to come over or not. I should 
think the latter, by the accounts I have 
seen ; yet our adversaries continue 
.strenuously to assert otherwise. . . . 
This formidable journey is the per- 
petual subject both of court and coffee- 
house chat. 



10. Letters of Mr. Molyneux, an 
Envoy, to Lord Marlborough. (In 
Coxe : Marlborough, Vol. VI. p. 3S1.) 

Hanover, Thursday, June 7, 1714- 
I am directed by the electress to send 
your grace the inclosed, which arrived 
in Hanover, by express, on Tuesday, 
but were not delivered till yesterday at 
noon. I have not time, or I had trans- 
lated the queen's for you ; but m}^ lord 
will explain them to you, and let you 
know that there is no hand villainous 
enough to write them, but that one 
fronr whence they come. This court 
is so openly honest in their proceedings, 
that they would be glad to disperse 
these letters among their friends in 
England ; whereas their correspond- 



ence is so false and hidden, as that the 
express declared, till the inoment the 
letters wei-e read, that they were to in- 
vite the prince over, and I would lay 
my life the ministers declare the same 
in London. 

Hanover, June 10, 1714. 
The last post I finished my letters 
about six in the evening. Not an hour 
after the post went, I went directly 
afterwards to Herrenhausen, the coun- 
try house of the court, and there the 
first thing I heard was, that the good 
old electress was just dying in one of 
the public walks. I ran up there and 
found her just expiring in the arms of 
the poor electoral princess, and amidst 
the tears of a great many of her ser- 
vants, who endeavoured in vain to help 
her. I can give 3'ou no account of her 
illness, but that I believe the chagrin of 
those villainous letters I sent you last 
post has been in a great measure the 
cause of it. The Rheingravine, who 
has been with her these fifteen years, 
has told me she never knew any thing 
make so deep an impression on her 
as the affair of the prince's journey, 
which, I am sure, she had to the last 
degree at heart ; and she has done me 
the honour to tell me so twenty times. 
In the midst of this concern those 
letters arrived, and those I verilj' be- 
lieve have broke her heart, and brought 
her with sorrow to the grave. The 
letters were delivered on Wednesday 
at noon. That evening when I came 
to court, she was at cards, but was so 
full of these letters, that she got up and 
ordered me to follow her into the 
garden, where she gave thein to me to 
read, and walked, and spoke a great 
deal in relation to them. I believe she 
walked three hours that night. The 
next morning, which was Thursday, I 
heard she was out of order ; and on 
going immediately to court, she ordered 
me to be called into her bedchamber. 



The Hanoverian Succession 



237 



She gave me the letters I sent you to 
copy ; she bid me send them next post, 
and bring them afterwards to her to 
court. That was on Frida)-. In the 
morning on Frida}', they told me she 
was very well, but seemed very cha- 
grined. She was dressed, and dined 
with the elector as usual. About four 
she did me the honour to send me to 
town, for some other copies of the 
same letters, and then she was still 
perfectly well. She worked and talked 
very heartily in the Orangerie. After 
that, and about six, she went out to 
\valk in the gardens, and was still very- 
well. A shower of rain came, and as 



she was walking pretty fast, to get to 
shelter, they told her she walked a little 
too fast. She answered, " I believe I 
do," and dropped down in saying those 
words, which were her last. They 
raised her up, chaffed her with spirits, 
tried to bleed her ; but it was all in 
vain, and when I came up to her, she 
was as dead as if she had been four 
days so. No princess ever died more 
regretted, and I infinitely pity those 
servants, that have known her a long 
time, when I that have had the honour 
to be known to her but a month, can 
scarce refrain from tears in relating 
this. 



GROUP XXV. 



GEORGE I. AND THE PRINCESS OF AHLDEN. 



I. An Account of the Divorce of 
George of Hanover from Sophia Doro- 
thea of Celle. Published in 1695. (In 
Historische Zeitschrift, Vol. 48, p. 
232.) Translated. 

[The emendations in italics \vere 
made by Madame, the Duchess of Or- 
leans, and the well-known Leibnitz. 
It must be remembered that they were 
both \varm friends of the House of Han- 
over. The whole matter of Konigs- 
mark's disappearance is shrouded in 
mystery. The guilt of the Princess is 
an open question. This account is the 
least distorted and the most moderate 
of any that has come down to us. The 
details that ordinarily pass current to- 
day are taken from a novel written by 
the Duke of Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel. 
The " Memoirs of Sophia Dorothea" 
are an arrant forgery. ^Ed.] 

When the Duchess of Celle [Eleo- 
nora D'Olbreuse] was called plain 
Madame de Harburg they had thought 
of mai'rying her daughter to young 
Count Konigsmark, inasmuch as they 
had loved each other from childhood. 



i Tlielatc Countess KiJnigsmark when 
she was at Hamburg had takcti steps 
in this matter with regard to the 
Count' s older brother who died in the 
Morea ; but tJiev %vere only children 
tJien and thev -would not hear of the 
proposition at Celle.) But Chancellor 
Schutz, for his own private advantage, 
furthered that of Madame of Celle to 
the extent of having her daughter de- 
clared countess (princess., rat/ier) and 
engaged to the young prince of Wol- 
fenbuttel who was killed before Philips- 
burg. The prince of Nassau, governor 
of Friesland, then tried to get her by the 
intrigues of a certain Villiers, and the 
mother entered into it to some extent. 
But the Duke of Hanover [Ernest 
Augustus] being informed of it and 
fearing that the rich dowry which tlie 
duke of Celle [George William] meant 
to give his daughter might escape him, 
made up his mind at last to the marriage 
he had long scorned, and one fine day 
the duchess of Hanover [Sophia] went 
to the duke of Celle, who was still in 
bed to declare this resolution to him 



2^8 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 



and to demand his daughter in marriage 
for her son [George I.] (^AfaheJiood. 

The electress of Brunsxvick Jiad Cloth- 
ing to do ivit/i this man-iage^ of xvhich 
she did not approve.^ The affair was 
soon settled, and one of the conditions 
of the match was that there should 
henceforward be the right of primogen- 
iture. [Hanover and Celle were to 
form one duchy, which should not be 
subdivided among the heirs. — Ed.] 
Thus the marriage was consummated 
rather from motives of interest than 
from affection. {Falsehood. The 
prince really loved his wife.) [But 
consult Sophia's own letters ! — Ed.] But 
this constraint was soon thrown aside ; 
they began to show coldness to the 
princess and soon treated her with in- 
dignity. The prince considered her 
his inferior, and being quick-tempered 
did not keep his hands off her. The 
guards noticed it, and they say he even 
drew his sword. They reproached the 
princess with her birth ; she complained 
of it to her father and mother. But the 
mother could only urge her to be patient, 
and the father said a woman ought to 
adapt herself to the disposition of her 
husband. {As many falsehoods as 
there are words. Tliey treated her 
ivitJi all the regard imaginable [Oh 
no, they did not! — Ed.] tJie electoral 
prince took good care not to beat her. 

TJiose who believe or write such things 
do not in the least k7io-w the prince., 
or ratlier do not knozv the way in 
■whic/i persons of this qitalitv live. 

TJie most t/tat could liave happened is 
tliat zviien the princess had committed 
many improper actions the prince may 
have said a few sharp words to her. 
It is true slie sotneiimes complained to 
iter father and mother., heaping up 
falsehoods., for tJiere ivas mztch malice 
in- Jier nature. Aloreover they -would 
never have believed Jier so guilty at 

Celle if Iter letters had 7iot been 



produced.) In the ineanwhile Count 
Konigsmark came to take service in 
Hanover and the old feeling of tender- 
ness revived. He ruined himself in 
balls and gifts that he might find oppor- 
tunities to speak to the princess but was 
chiefly able to recover his place in her 
affections because the princess was not 
happy. It happened in the interval 
that the intrigues of the princes Max- 
imilian and Charles [George's younger 
brothers] were discovered and that the 
idea was conceived, for the better es- 
tablishing of the primogeniture, of hav- 
ing the ninth electorate founded. The 
endeavor was dashed at Augsburg by 
the opposition of the duke of Celle. 
They then set to work to win him over. 
M. Grote had in vain endeavoured to 
make this duke abdicate, but at any rate 
they gained his consentto the electorate. 
[It was established in 1692. — Ed.] 
{-Falsehood. TJiey took good care not 
to make any such proposition to the 
Duke of Celle.) During this time they 
were quite amiable to the princess in 
order not to vex her father. But once 
having gained the investiture with the 
electorate they went back to their old 
manner of treatment. Countess Platen 
[Mistress of Ernest Augustus] had 
shown great attentions to Konigsmark, 
to bring him to marry her daughter, 
but when she saw she was being looked 
upon as a dupe she set to work to re- 
venge herself. In order to foster the 
bad state of affairs between the prince 
and the princess she made use of one 
of her own relatives (Schwarz), that 
she might be head of a dynasty of 
ministers. But the prince's love was 
not as constant as his father's ; he soon 
tired of this painted beauty, and sought 
other objects, even married women, 
with whom he did not stand badly. 
The princess was irritated at it more 
and more and complained in vain to 
her father. She also had a falling out 





SOi'lJlA CtlARI UTIA 
.(^fl«*itf l^ATA 'DoLiSj/-v IlPJ^Sl "'■' 




George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 239 



^vith the Electress of Brandenburg 
[Sophie Charlotte, her sister- in-hiw], 
because one day the princess said to the 
Electress : Madame, ^-ou are unusually 
beautiful to-day; the Electress replied 
that she had her ordinary color and 
that she did not paint like many other 
people ; whereupon the princess, -who 
was piqued, having provoked her into 
washing, the Electress, greatly annoyed 
took occasion to harm her enemv by 
telling the prince her brother a thou- 
sand tales that she had heard ; this, al- 
though he knew only too much alread}', 
helped to goad him on still more. 
( This story is a pure invention. It 
is true the Electress and the princess 
had not seen each other for tzvo years 
or more, bttt that -was for another 
reason. When the opera house seemed 
to be on fire., Count Konigsmark 
cried eagerly, save the electoral prin- 
cess ; and as, in the confusion, the 
gentleman in 'Mailing could not at 
first be found, the count, mistaking 
the electress for the princess in the 
darkness gave her his hand to take 
her out of the crush. But having 
perceived his error he quitted her 
brusquely to run to the princess, and 
the electress, since the others had 
seen that the count was taking care 
<f her, "ivas left alone until Prince 
^Maximilian, perceiving it, extricated 
her from the crowd. The electress 
having rallied her a little on it, the 
princess zvas mortally ofi^ettded.) 
^Meanwhile the count, seeing that they 
were being watched more than usual, 
resolved to leave and to take service 
with the elector of Saxonv. But at 
Dresden he was foolish enough to 
speak of things about which he might 
better have kept quiet. One of the 
elector's councillors, fearing lest this 
count should establish himself at Dres- 
den, betrayed him and everything was 
made known at Hanover. Whereupon 



it was resolved to get rid of the count, 
who never meant to return there but 
only to leave with a good grace. 
Meanwhile the measures were taken ; 
Countess Platen undertook to carr}' 
them out ( falsehood) ; Italians were 
not lacking at Hanover. ( The elector 
of Brunsvjick liad enough faitJful 
servitors in his own land, not to need 
Italia7is), and the count disappeared 
the day before the one fixed for his de- 
parture. If one undertook to report 
all the rumors on this subject one could 
fill a volume. The most frequent one 
is that he was despatched very quickly. 
His servants suspected nothing at first 
and his secretary was imprudent enough 
not to put away his papers ; he even 
went at last to enquire what he should 
do about them. i^Some haz'e accused 
him of dealings with tJie count' s 
enemies, but that is not apparent.) 
Under pretext that they were state 
papers in which they were interested, 
they went there and found only too 
much. There was a packet of all the 
letters the countess (j/c) had written 
him for a long time back. The prin- 
cess was taken to Ahlden and then to 
Lauenau. Meanwhile in order to 
appease the duke of Celle and make 
him approve the steps taken' they 
showed him the letters, some of which 
spoke ill enough of himself. There 
was one where the princess, displeased 
at having complained in vain to her 
father of the love affairs of her husband 
says: this old dotard, because he has 
been a rake all his life, thinks that no 
one could live without being one. 
( The. terms used xvere a little difi^er- 
ent . It seems she laughed at the 
goodness and credulity of the duke 
her father. Me is in his dotage, she 
said, which is a sign that lie zuill still 
live a long time.) Finally the duke 
of Celle lent his hand to the divorce. 
They had long cherished this plan, but 



240 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 



out of consideration for the duke of 
Celle had been obliged to keep it 
secret ; now they considered the con- 
juncture favorable for bringing it 
forward. They formed a council com- 
posed of clergy and seculars from the 
courts of Hanover and Celle. There 
the matter was gone into. The coun- 
cil tried at first to patch up matters ; 
the prince, knowing that the princess 
would not return to him, offered to re- 
ceive her back. {Madame \_Eliza- 
beth Charlotte^ remarks 07i this that 
there are 7io signs that the electoral 
prince -wmild have beett willing to re- 
ceive her back. She says the prin- 
cess was crazy enough to tie i/p iy she 
refused to return and made such pro- 
positions., which are indeed fictitious ; 
all the more sifice she ought to tliink 
of her much inferior birth and to 
consider it a great ho7ior even to be 
endured after those other galanteries 
that made her conduct suspected — 
as when formerly at Celle she almost 
forced young Haxthausen to receive 
her letters., which proved the ruin of 
this voting man at that court, not to 
speak of Jier passion for the Rhein- 
graf nor the liberties she took at 
Venice of xuliich certain Frenchmen, 
like the marquis de la Seve, I think, 
Blanclicfort and others told stories at 
the court of France.^ The princess 
would not listen to it [the idea of 
returning to her husband] except on con- 
dition that the count be liberated, thus to 
justify her innocence, that the countess 
Platen should be sent away, and that her 
husband should treat her better. She 
was refused these conditions. And 
thereupon the council pronounced 
sentence of divorce on the basis of 
desertion, with the clause that the 
prince might marry again ; but as the 
laws forbid it to the guilty party they 
put it into these same terms. They 
simply let it go by default. The prin- 



cess's advocate acted throughout the 
whole trial like a simpleton or a rogue. 
He had no plea to urge against the 
sentence except that of supplication 
with which he began. ( What other 
means could he use, since in tliis 
matter appeals to tribtmals of the 
empire are not in order?) The 
princess was taken back to Ahlden 
where she will pass her time none 
too pleasantly. 



3. Protocol of Report of Celle Min- 
isters. (Historische Zeitschrift, Vol. 

4S, p- 43-) 

Aug. 5, 1694. 
Report of what passed at Ahlden. 
Object of the journey had been to lay 
before the princess the true state of 
affairs — that everything had been com- 
pletely laid bare and that there was no 
need of denial or hesitation ; to tell her 
just what was to be made public on our 
parts, and just how she would have to 
conduct herself when the question of 
divorce came up. She testified to the 
completes! repentance in the world ; 
condemned herself, indeed, recognizing 
that she had merited all that had hap- 
pened to her and more too ; asked for 
pardon, placing great confidence in the 
generosity of the Elector ; seemed to 
have a dread of the electoral prince. 
She wished to deny having come to 
actual crime ; i-ecognized that tiie ap- 
pearances were such that any one must 
condemn her, and that therefore in this 
regard her innocence could serve only 
for her own internal satisfaction. . . . 
She would consent to the separation,, 
saw that it could not well be otherwise ;, 
was of opinion that the scanty friend- 
ship, or rather aversion the prince 
had felt for her for years had brought 
her to this unhappy condition ; had not 
thought she could ever right herself 
again in his eyes ; adding that before 
his journey to Berlin he had said : 



George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 241 



" This constraint is too much; on my 
return I shall write to your father and 
demand a separation." With such pre- 
vious intentions it was easy to imagine, 
now that this misfortune had come, what 
he would do. Let them tell lier how 
to act and she would obey. She con- 
sidered it a great blessing that God 
through this misfortune would with- 
draw her from a world to which she 
had entirely' given herself up, and 
would give her an opportunity to think 
on God and her salvation ; tliat she 
would hope to prove an example of 
piety, even as she had hitherto of 
scandal. 

[She was kept in confinement more 
than thirty years and never allowed to 
see either of her children, George II, 
or Sophia Dorothea, wife of Frederick 
William I.— Ed.] 



3. General' Stanhope to the Emperor 
of the Romans, Charles VI. (Leibnitz, 
Werke,Vol. IX. p. 504.) Translation. 
London, July 30th-x\ugust 10, 1714. 

[Less than two months after the 
death of the Electress Sophia. — Ed.] 

Sire : I think I can with certainty at 
this present moment send word to your 
Imperial and Christian Majesty that the 
Qiieen is in the last agonies. After 
having felt unwell for two days she was 
seized with an attack of apoplexy, 
which lasted two hours, during which 
she was bereft of all sensation. She 
recovered a little about eleven o'clock 
and the council which had assembled 
profited by this interval of health to 
gain the Qiieen's consent to nominate 
the Duke of Shrewsbury as Grand 
Treasurer, in place of the five commis- 
sioners who had been spoken of and 
who were to have been subordinated to 
Lord Bolingbroke as prime minister. 
The council continues in session and 
gives all the orders necessary to main- 
tain the public tranquility and enable 



Monseigneur the Elector (George I.) 
to take sure possession. At three 
o'clock this afternoon the four physi- 
cians declared to the council that 
the remedies they had essayed, two 
very violent emetics, had had no 
effect and according to the pre- 
cepts of their art she could not live 
twelve hours. This sudden and unex- 
pected accident is like a thunderbolt for 
the Jacobite party which has taken no 
measures in advance for the success of 
their project ; and I can assure your 
Imperial and Christian IMajesty, that if 
the physicians have guessed rightly,. 
Monseigneur the Elector of Hanover 
will be proclaimed King and will take 
possession of the kingdom as peace- 
fully as any of his predecessors have 
done. It is true that if the illness 
should drag along, even if only for a 
few weeks, we might be seriously em- 
barrassed ; but all who have seen the 
Qiieen and spoken to the physicians 
are perfectly in accord that to-morrow 
will see the end of matters. I con- 
sidered. Sire, that it was my duty to 
communicate to your Imperial and 
Christian Majesty all that I could learn 
in so delicate a conjuncture. I hope 
that I am saying nothing new when I 
assure you that all honorable people 
here are just as outraged at the perfidy 
of the last ministry towards your 
Majesty as any Austrian or Spaniard 
could be and that they will contribute 
their utmost, when an occasion shall 
present itsself to atone for this national 
infamy (the peace of Utrecht). And 
I flatter myself. Sire, that I have not 
been mistaken so often as I have said 
to our friends of the good party that 
your Imperial and Christian Majesty 
would always consider it your interest 
to keep England free, to uphold the 
rights there of the House of Brunswick, 
and to protect us in case of need against 
the common enemy. God grant that 



242 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 



this good understanding, which had 
engendered such glorious successes, 
may be continually renewed. Mean- 
while I humbly beg your Majesty to 
believe, that I am and ever will be, 
Sire, your Imperial and Christian 
Majesty's very humble, very obedient 
and very devoted servant. 



4. Letter of Lady Mary Wortley 
Montague to her Husband. (Works, 
Vol. I. p. 344.) 

[York.] 1714. 

I went with my cousin to-day to see 
the king proclaimed, which was done ; 
the archbishop walking next the lord 
mayor, and all the country gentry 
following, with greater crowds of 
people than I believed to be in York, 
vast acclamations and the appearance 
of a general satisfaction ; the Pre- 
tender afterwards dragged about the 
streets and burned ; ringing of bells, 
bonfires and illuminations, the mob 
crying liberty and property, and long 
live King George ! This morning all 
the principal men of any figure took 
post for London, and we are alarmed 
with the fear of attempts from Scot- 
land, though all the Protestants here 
seem unanimous for the Hanover suc- 



5. Lord Chesterfield's character of 
George L (Works, London, 1845, Vol. 
II. p. 433.) 

George the First was an honest, dull, 
German gentleman, as unfit as unwill- 
ing to act the part of a King, which is 
to shine and to oppress. Lazy and 
inactive even in his pleasures, which 
were therefore lowly sensual. He was 
coolly intrepid, and indolently benevo- 
lent. He was diffident of his own 
parts, which made him speak little in 
public, and prefer in his social, which 
were his favourite, hours the company 
of wags and buffoons. Even . . . the 
Duchess of Kendal, with whom he 



passed most of his time, and who had 
all influence over him, was very little 
above an idiot. 

Importunity alone could make him 
act, and then only to get rid of it. His 
views and affections were singly con- 
fined to the narrow compass of his 
Electorate ; England was too big for 
him. If he had nothing great as a 
King, he had nothing bad as a man ; 
and if he does not adorn, at least he 
will not stain, the annals of this coun- 
try. In private life he would have 
been loved and esteemed as a good 
citizen, a good friend, and a good 
neighbour. Happy were it for Europe, 
happy for th^ world, if there were not 
greater kings in it ! 



6. Letters of Count Broglio to the 
King of France. (In Belsham, History 
of Great Brittain, London, 1S05. Vol. 
III. Appendix, p. 539.) 

July 6, 1734. 

As the duchess of Kendal seemed to 
express a desire to see me often, I 
have been very attentive to her, being 
convinced that it is highly essential to 
the advancement of your majesty's 
service to be on good terms with her ; 
for she is closely united to the three 
ministers who now govern, and these 
ministers are in strict union together, 
and are, as far as I can judge, well in- 
clined. They visit me very frequently 
both together and singly, and I behave 
to them in the same manner. . . . 
Lord Townshend and Mr. Walpole have 
been lately indisposed, but they are 
now quite recovered. It is much to be 
wished that they should remain in 
power. . . . They possess an un- 
bounded influence over the King and 
the duchess of Kendal ; they enjoy the 
whole powder of government, and the 
entire confidence of the King. 

The prince of Wales endeavours to 
obtain information of what passes from 




^/\ 




(fS(VAfX'r, ://,-,',: : 4//-vw :yly/j, /r/.'/r,?~ ^^^y//. ^ y 



",,:,-v;;4aS-^>- 



George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 



243 



o 



persons wlio are attached to him, but 
he learns nothing either from the king, 
the duchess, or the ministers. The 
king goes every afternoon at five o'cloclv 
to the duchess, tlie ministers occa- 
sionally attend, and it is there that 
affairs which require secresy are 
treated. ... 

July 10. 

The more I consider state affairs, the 
more I am convinced that the govern- 
ment is entirely in the hands of Mr. 
Walpole, lord Townshend, and the 
duke of Newcastle, who are on the best 
terms with the duchess of Kendal. 
The king visits her every afternoon 
from five to eight ; and it is there that 
she endeavours to penetrate the senti- 
ments of his Britannic majesty. . . . 
I am convinced that she may be ad- 
vantageously employed in promoting 
your majesty's service, and that it will 
be necessary to employ her : though I 
would not trust her farther than is 
absolutely necessary. . . . 

It is much to be wished, for the 
maintenance of the union between your 
majesty and the king of England, that 
no misfortune may happen to Mr. 
Walpole, he being absolutely the helm 
of government. The king cannot do 
without him, on account of his great 
influence in the house of commons, 
where he depends entirel)- upon him in 
every respect. He is a man of great 
abilities, and very enterprising. The 
house' places a most unreserved con- 
fidence in him, and he has the address 
to persuade them that the national 
honour is dearer to him than all the 
Avealth in the world. He is very ably 
seconded by Townshend, who is a man 
of great capacity, and with whom he is 
in perfect harmony. The duke of 
Newcastle, who is indebted to him for 
his situation, submits to his judgment 
in everything; so that the king experi- 
ences no contradiction to his wishes, 



but leaving the internal government 
entirely to Walpole, is more engaged 
with the German ministers, in regula- 
ting the affairs of Hanover, than occu- 
pied with those of England. It is to 
be observed, that Mr. Walpole adjusted 
the quarrel between the king and the 
prince of Wales. . . . For some years 
past the king has not spoke a word to 
the prince, nor the prince to him. 
The princess of Wales sometimes in 
public attacks the king in conversation ; 
he answers her ; but some who are 
well apprized that his majesty likes her 
no better than the prince, have assured 
me, that he only speaks to her on these 
occasions for the sake of decorum. . . . 
The king has no predilection for the 
English nation, and never receives in 
private any English of either sex. 
None even of his principal ofHcers are 
admitted to his chamber in a morning 
to dress him, nor in the evening to 
undress him. These offices are per- 
formed by the Turks who are his valet- 
de-chambres, and who give him every 
thing he wants in private. He rather 
considers England as a temporary 
possession, to be made the most of 
while it lasts, than as a perpetual 
inheritance to himself and family. He 
will have no disputes with the parlia- 
ment, but commits the entire transac- 
tion of that business to WaljDole. . . . 
[Green says: "under the two sov- 
ereigns who followed Anne the power 
of the Crown lay absolutely dormant. 
They were strangers, to whom loyalty 
in its personal sense was impossible ; 
and their character as nearly approached 
insignificance as it is possible for human 
character to ajDproach it." — Ed.] 



7. Appendix to Horace Walpole, 
Memoirs of George U., Vol. HI. 

I learned from Henrietta, Countess 
of Suffolk . . . the fact mentioned in 



2 44 George I. and the Princess of Ahlden 



text, of George the First burning his 
wife's testament. That Princess, the 
Electress of Hanover, liked the famous 
Count Konigsmark, while her husband 
was at the army. The old Elector, 
father of George the First, ordered him 
away. The Electress, then Hereditary 
Princess, was persuaded to let him kiss 
her hand before his departure. She 
saw him in bed — he retired, and was 
never heard of more. When George 
the Second went first to Hanover after 
his father's death, and made some 
alterations in the palace, the body of 
Konigsmark was found under the floor 
of the chamber next to the Electress' s 
chamber. He had been strangled im- 
mediately on leaving her, by the old 
Elector's order, and buried under the 
floor. This fact ^ueen Caroline re- 
lated to viy father^ Sir Robert Wal- 
pole. George the Second told it to his 
virife. . . . The Electress was separated 
from George I. on that amour, and was 
called Duchess of Halle ( .?) ; and he 



married the Duchess of Kendal with 
his left hand. . . . 

George II. who hated his father and 
was very fond of his mother, meant, 
if she had survived her husband, to 
bring her over, and declare her Qiieen 
Dowager. Lady Suffolk told me, that 
the morning after the news of the 
death of George I. arrived, when she 
went, as Woman of the Bedchamber, 
to the new Qiieen, she found a whole 
and half-length portraits of the Elec- 
tress hung up in the apartment ; George 
II. had had them locked up, but had 
not dared to produce them. Princess 
Amelie has the half-length at her house 
in Cavendish-square. George I. told 
the Duchess of Kendal, that if he could,, 
he would appear to her after his death. 
Soon after that event, a large bird, I 
forget of what sort, flew into her 
window. She believed it was the 
King's soul, and took the utmost care 
of it. George II. was not less credu- 
lous ; he believed in vampires. 



GROUP XXVI. 

KING GEORGE II. AND QLTEEN CAROLINE. 



I. Extracts from Lord Hervey's 
Memoirs. (London: Murray, 1S4S.) 

In October (1737) the ceremony of 
the Coronation was performed with all 
the pomp and magnificence that could 
be contrived ; the present King differ- 
ing so much from the last, that all the 
pageantry and splendour, badges and 
trappings of royalty, were as pleasing 
to the son as they were irksome to the 
father. The dress of the Qiieen on 
this occasion was as fine as the accumu- 
lated riches of the City and suburbs 
could make it ; for besides her own jew- 
els (which were a great number and 
very valuable) she had on her aead and 
on her shoulders all the pearls she could 
borrow of the ladies of quality at one 



end of the town, and on her petticoat 
all the diamonds she could hire of the 
Jews and jewelers at the other ; so that 
the appearance and the truth of her 
finery was a mixture of magnificence 
and meanness not unlike the eclat of 
royalty in many other particulars when 
it comes to be nicely examined and 
traced to what money hires or flattery 
lends. ... 

Her (the Qiieen' s) predominant pas- 
sion was pride, and the darling pleas- 
ure of her soul was power ; but she 
was forced to gratify the one and gain 
the other, as some people do health, 
by a strict and painful regime, which 
few besides herself • could have had 
patience to support, or resolution to 














(; 


£ 






a J: 


', ^-'' 


/,, 




f / /ff' : 


""/. 


'0- 


',/. 


in. 1 i: N 1 > !■; 


K . 


■ ■ /', . , / 




■' / 












,■.,/,'/,',„.;■ 


■ff 


,/i.; 


















T-> (•n.tm.'flr,, 


"''■: 


•,/ ■» ■■ 




' 



Kinor Georee II. and Oueen Caroline 245 



adhere to. She was at least seven oi" 
eight hours tetc-a-tete with the King 
every day, during which time she was 
generally saying what she did not think, 
assenting to what she did not believe, 
and praising what she did not approve ; 
for the}' were seldom of the same opin- 
ion, and he too fond of his own for her 
ever at first to dare to controvert it. 
. . . She used to give him her opinion 
as jugglers do a card, by changing it 
imperceptibly, and malting him believe 
he held the same with that he first 
pitched upon. But that which made 
these teie-a-tetcs seem heaviest was 
that he neither liked reading nor being 
read to (unless it was to sleep) : she 
was forced, like a spider, to spin out 
of her own bowels all the conversation 
with which the fly was taken. How- 
ever, to all this she submitted for the 
sake of power, and for the reputation 
of having it. . . . Her every thought, 
word and act therefore tended and was 
calculated to preserve her influence 
there ; to him she sacrificed her time, 
for him she mortified her inclination ; 
she looked, spake and breathed but 
for him, like a weathercock to every 
capricious blast of his uncertain tem- 
per, and governed him (if such influ- 
ence so gained can bear the name 
•of government) by being as great a 
slave to him thus ruled, as any other 
wife could be to a man who ruled her. 
For all the tedious hours she spent then 
in watching him whilst he slept, or the 
heavier task of entertaining him whilst 
he was awake, her single consolation 
was in reflecting she had power, and 
that people in coffee-houses and ruelles 
were saying she governed this country, 
without knoyving how dear the govern- 
ment of it cost her. . . . 

The day [29th October, 1734] be- 
fore the birthday the Court removed 
fi'om Kensington to London ; and the 
Queen, who had long been out of order 



with a cough and a little lurking fever, 
notwithstanding she had been twice 
blooded, grew every hour worse and 
worse : however, the King lugged her 
the night she came from Kensington, 
the first of Farinelli's performances, to 
the opera, and made her the next day 
go thi-ough all the tiresome ceremonies 
of drawing-rooms and balls, the fa- 
tigues of heats and crowds, and every 
other disagreeable appurtenance to the 
celebration of a birthday. There was 
a strange affectation of an incapacity 
of being sick that ran through the 
whole Royal Family, which they car- 
ried so far that no one of them was 
more willing to own any other of the 
family ill than to acknowledge them- 
selves to be so. . . . 

1734- 
Sir Robert Walpole [the prime- 
minister] used always to go into Nor- 
folk twice in a year, for ten days in 
summer and twenty in November, and 
generally set out for his second expedi- 
tion the day after the King's birthday : 
he was to do so now, and therefore to 
take his leave this evening of the 
Qiieen. . . . "You know, Madam," 
said he, " I can do nothing without you ; 
whatever my industry and watchfulness 
for your interest and welfare suggest, 
it is you must execute : you. Madam, 
are the sole mover of this Court ; 
whenever your hand stops, everything 
must stand still, and, whenever that 
spring is changed, the whole system 
and every inferior wheel must be 
changed too. If I can boast of any 
success in carrying on the King's 
affairs, it is a success, I am very free to 
own, I never could have had but by the 
mediation of your Majesty ... so 
much so that I not only never did do 
anything without you, but I know I 
never could ; and if this country have 
the misfortune to lose 3'our Majesty, I 
should find it as impossible, divested of 



246 King George II. and Queen Caroline 



your assistance, to persuade the King 
into any measure he did not like, as, 
whilst we have the happiness of pos- 
sessing your Majesty, any minister 
would find it to persuade him into a 
step which you did not approve." . . . 

Lord Hervey told Sir Robert Walpole 
that he feared the King had overheard 
everything that had passed this evening 
between him and the Qiieen. Sir 
Robert started at this, and said, " If 
he has, it is impossible he can ever 
forgive me. . . . For God's sake 
find out whether it %uas so or not, atid 
let me knoiv before I set out to-inorroiv 
morning for Norfolk.'''' . . . 

Lord Hervey was not a little pleased 
to find his conjectures had been false, 
and quickly made Sir Robert Walpole 
easy by a short note to tell him what 
the case had been. . . . 

1735- 
One trouble arose on the King's 

going to Hanover which her Majesty 
did not at all foresee, which was his 
becoming, soon after his arrival, so 
much attached to one Madame Wal- 
moden, a young married woman of the 
first fashion at Hanover, that nobody in 
England talked of anything but the 
declining power of the Queen, and the 
growing interest of this new favour- 
ite. . . . 

It is certain, too, that, from the very 
beginning of this new engagement, the 
King acquainted the Qiieen by letter of 
every step he took in it — of the growth 
of his passion, the progress of his 
applications, and their success — of 
every word as well as of every action 
that passed — so minute a description of 
her person, that had the Qiieen been a 
painter she might have drawn her 
rival's picture at six hundred miles 
distance. . . . 

By unreasonably' hurrying himself to 
arrive in England, though he was as 
unreasonably sorry to return thither at 



all, he (the King) had made himself 
extremely ill ; for whilst he travelled in 
this violent manner, day and night, and 
almost without any rest, only for the 
pleasure of bragging how quick he 
moved, he had so heated his blood that 
he was feverish for several days after 
he returned. . . . 

This disorder was kept a great secret 
to all the Court, but the consequences 
of it were no secret. Everybody shared 
the warm and frequent sallies of his 
abominable temper, and everybody im- 
puted them to what w^as the joint 
though not the sole cause of these 
eruptions, which was the affliction he 
felt for the change of a German life to 
an English one. . . . 

After this last journey, Hanover had 
so completed the conquest of his affec- 
tions that there was nothing English 
ever commended in his presence that he 
did not always show, or pretend to 
show was surpassed by something of 
the same kind in Germany. No Eng- 
lish or even French cook could dress a 
dinner ; no English confectioner set out 
a desert ; no English player could act ; 
no English coachman could drive, or 
English jockey ride ; nor were any 
English horses fit to be drove or fit to 
be ridden ; no Englishman knew how 
to come into a room, nor any English- 
woman how to dress herself . . . 
whereas at Hanover all these things 
were in the utmost perfection. . . . 

In truth he hated the English, looked 
upon them all as king-killers and 
republicans, grudged them their riches 
as well as their liberty, thought them 
all overpaid, and said to Lady Sundon 
one day as she w^as waiting at dinner, 
just after he had returned from Ger- 
many, that he was forced to distribute 
his favours here very differently from 
the manner in which he bestowed them 
at Hanover ; that there he rewarded 
people for doing their duty and serving 




(<UEEN CAROLINE. 



King George II. and Oueen Caroline 247 



him well, but that here he was obliged 
to enrich people for being rascals, and 
buy them not to cut his throat. 

The Qiieen did not always think in 
a different style of the English, though 
she kept her thoughts more to herself 
than the King. . . . The love of rule, 
the thirst of dominion and the jealousy 
of prerogative were so strongly im- 
planted in her — the German and the 
Qiieen so rooted in her mind — that the 
King himself had not more at heart all 
the trappings and pageantry of sov- 
ereignty than she the essential parts of 
it. . . . 

1736- 
In the mean time the people of all 
ranks grew every day more discon- 
tented at the. King's stay in Germany. 
The people belonging to the Court 
were uneasy at it, as it made the Court 
so much more unpopular. . . . The 
tradesmen were all uneasy, as they 
thought the King's absence prevented 
people coming to town, and particu- 
larly for the birthday. . . . The ordi- 
nary and the godly people took the 
turn of pitying the poor Queen, and 
railing at his Majesty for using so good 
a wife, who had brought him so many 
fine children, so abominably ill. Some 
of them (and those who, if he had 
heard all this, wouJd have fretted him 
most) used to talk of his age, and say, 
for a man at his time of day to be play- 
ing these youthful pranks, and fancy- 
ing himself in love, was quite ridicu- 
lous, as well as inexcusable. . . . To 
this familiar manner of talking were 
added several little ingenious manu- 
scripts : pasquinades were stuck up in 
several quarters of the town. . . . On 
St. James's gate this advertisement was 
pasted: — " Lost or strayed out of this 
house, a man who has left a wife and 
six children on the parish ; whoever 
will give any tidings of him to the 
churchwardens of St. James's Parish, 



so as he may be got again, shall receive 
four shillings and sixpence reward. N. 
B. This reward will not be increased, 
nobody judging him to deserve a 
Crown." . . . 

The Qiieen, at St. James's passed 
her common evenings just as she had 
done at Kensington : that is, in her 
private apartment at quadrille with 
her lady-in-waiting, Mrs. Schutz, and 
Lady Charlotte de Roussie ; whilst the 
Princess Caroline, Miss Dives '(one of 
her maids of honour) and Lord Her- 
vey played pools at cribbage ; and the 
Duke, Princess Emily, and the rest of 
the chance-comers of the family played 
at basset. Mondays and Fridays, how- 
ever, there were public drawing-rooms 
in the great apartments, in the same 
manner as when the King used to be in 
London. This Friday . . . there was 
a public drawing-room as usual, to 
which neither the Prince nor Princess 
came ; the Prince [Frederick, the heir 
apparent had quarrelled bitterly with 
his parents] made no excuse, the Prin- 
cess pleaded a cold, but the only marks 
of it that appeared was a black-hood. 
. . . The Queen asked Lord Hervey if 
he had heard any of the particulars of 
yesterday's feast in Pail-Mall. . . . 
Lord Hervey said the Prince's speech 
in the morning was the most ingratia- 
ting piece of popularity that ever was 

composed. . . . , says the Queen, 

"popularity always makes me sick; 
but Fritz's popularity makes me vomit. 
I hear that yesterday, on his side of the 
house, they talked of the king's being 
cast away with the same sang-froid as 
you would talk of a coach being over- 
turned ; and that my good son strutted 
about as if he had been already King. 
Did you mind the air with which he 
came into my drawing-room in the 
morning? ... I swear his behaviour 
shocked me so prodigiously, that I 
could hardly bring myself to speak to 



248 King George II. and Oueen Caroline 



him." . . . "You do not imagine, I 
believe, now [said Lord Hervey] that 
the Prince has all that horror of being 
King, which you then supposed." 
" Oh," replied the Qrieen, " he is such 
an ass that one cannot tell what he 
thinks : and yet he is not so great a 
fool as you take him for, neither." . . . 
The Princess Caroline, who loved her 
mother and disliked her brother in equal 
and extreme degrees, was in much the 
same state of mind as the Qiieen. . . . 
They neither of them made much cere- 
mony of wishing a hundred times a 
day that the Prince might fall down 
dead of an apoplexy— the Qiieen curs- 
ing the hour of his birth, and the 
Princess Caroline declaring she grudged 
him every hour he continued to breathe ; 
and reproaching Lord Hervey with his 
■weakness for having ever loved him, 
... as well as being so great a dupe 
as to believe the nauseous beast (those 
w^ere her words) cared for anybody but 
his own nauseous self. . . . 

Soon after . . . some of the Prince's 
letters were likewise printed. Those 
that had the greatest air of submis- 
sion were picked out on this occasion 
in order to move the compassion of 
the public. . . . This and other cir- 
cumstances made the King and Qiieen 
determine to have all the original letters 
and messages printed that had passed 
by the first night. . . . Lord Hervey 
the Qiieen desired might translate them. 
. . . The King and Queen were full 
as well pleased with giving Lord Her- 
vey this commission to call their son a 
liar in print, as he was to receive it, 
and charged him not to embellish the 
fool's letters in the translation, or to 
mend the spelling in the original. Lord 
Hervey took occasion upon this subject, 
among many others things, to say, he 
did not believe there ever was a father 
and son so thoroughly unlike in every 
particular as the King and Prince, and 



enumerated several points in which 
they differed, as little to the advantage 
of the Prince as to the dispraise or dis- 
pleasure of the King. . . . " My dear 
Lord," replied the Qiieen, " I will give 
it you under my hand, if you are in any 
fear of my relapsing, that my dear first- 
born is the greatest ass and the greatest 
liar, and the greatest cajtaille^ and the 
greatest beast in the whole world, and 
that I most heartily wish he was out of 
it." . . . 

On Wednesday, the gth of Novem- 
ber (1737), the Queen was taken ill in 
the morning at her new Library in St. 
James's Park; she called her com- 
plaint the cholic, her stomach and 
bowels giving her great pain. She 
came home, took Daffy's Elixir by Dr. 
Tesiei-'s, the German and house-physi- 
cian's advice; but was in such great 
pain . . . that she went to bed. How- 
ever, when the clock struck two, and 
the King proposed sending Lord Gran- 
tham to dismiss the company, and 
declare there would be no drawing- 
room, she, according to the custom of 
the family, not caring to own, or at 
least to have it generally known, how 
ill she was, told the King she was 
much better — that she would get up 
and see the company as usual. As 
soon as she came into the drawing- 
room she came up to Lord Hervey and 
said, "Is it not intolerable at my age 
to be plagued with a new distemper? 
Here is this nasty cholic that I had at 
Hampton Court come again." . . . 
Lord Hervey asked her what she had 
taken, and when she told him, he 
replied, "For God's sake. Madam, go 
to your own room ; what have you to 
do here.'"' . . . At last the King went 
away, telling the Qiieen as he went by, 
that she had overlooked the Duchess of 
Norfolk. The Queen made her excuse 
for having done so to the Duchess of 
Norfolk, the last person she ever spoke 




( See page 253.) 



King- George II. and Queen Caroline 249 



to in public, and tlien retired, going 
immediately into bed, where she grew 
worse every moment. . . . Lord Her- 
vey speaking to the King, who was 
now returned from Princess Emily's 
apartment, and began to be alarmed, 
Dr. Broxholme was immediately sent 
for by Lord Hervey. When lie came, 
Tesier and he agreed to give the Oueen 
immediately some snake-root with Sir 
Walter Raleigh's cordial. . . . Soon 
iifter the snake-root and Sir Walter 
Raleigh's cordial arrived from the 
apothecary's; it was taken and thrown 
lip about an hour after. All these 
strong things, twice Daffy's Elixir, 
mint-water, usquebaugh, snake-root, 
and Sir Walter Raleigh's Cordial, had, 
without easing the Qiieen's pain, so 
increased her fever, that the doctors 
ordered Ranby to bleed her twelve 
ounces immediately. . . . 

Her vomiting was suspended for a 
few hours this morningi . . . On this 
amendment, as everybody called it, but 
few I'eally thought it, the King resolved 
to have a levee, and that the Princess 
Emily should see the company at the 
usual hour of the Qiieen's going into 
her drawing-room ; and to show what 
odd and inconsistent particulars we are 
all composed of, this being the day the 
Foreign Ministers came to Couit, the 
King, in the midst of all his real and 
great concern for the Qiieen, sent to 
his pages to bid them be sure to have 
his last new ruffles sewed on upon the 
shirt he was to put on that day at his 
public dressing. Such sort of particu- 
lars will seem very trifling to those 
who do not think, like me, that trifling 
circumstances often let one more into 
people's tempers and characters than 
those parts of their conduct that are of 
greater importance, from which one 
frequently knows no more of their natu- 
ral turn of mind than one does of their 
natural gait whilst they are dancing. . . . 



This night two more phj'sicians were 
called in. Sir Hans Sloane and Dr. 
Hulst, who ordered blisters and aperi- 
ents : these came up, like every other 
thing, soon after she had swallowed it, 
and the blisters, though a remedy to 
which the King and Qiieen had often 
declared themselves very averse, were 
put upon her legs. . . . At six o'clock 
on Friday morning the Queen was 
again blooded. . . . 

When Ranby returned he brought 
one Shipton with him, a City surgeon. 
. . . By this time, too, Busier arrived, 
and these three attended her constantly. 
After they had examined the Qiieen, 
they all told the King she was in the 
utmost danger. Busier proposed mak- 
ing an operation with the knife to en- 
able them to replace the protrusion, 
which Ranby opposed as full of imme- 
diate danger and thinking that the 
tumour might be reduced by less violent 
means. . . . About four o'clock on 
Sunday morning the 13th, the Queen 
complaining that her wound was ex- 
tremely painful, and desiring to have it 
dressed, Ranby and Shipton were called 
in to her, and upon opening the wound 
declared it had already begun to mor- 
tify._. . . 

It is not necessary to examine whether 
the Qiieen's reasoning was good or bad 
in wishing the King, in case she died,- 
should marry again : — It is certain she 
did wish it ; had often said so when he 
was present, and when he was not 
present, and when she was in health, 
and gave it now as her advice to him 
when she was dying — upon which his 
sobs began to rise and his tears to fall 
with double vehemence. Whilst in the 
midst of this passion, wiping his eyes,, 
and sobbing between every word, with 
much ado he got out this answer : Non, 
f aitrai des niaitresses. . . . To which 
the Qiieen made no other reply than 
'■'■a/i! vioii Dial! cela n' c7npeche 



250 King George II. and Queen Caroline 



pas." I know this episode will hardly 
be credited, but it is literally true. . . . 

On Sunday morning, about nine 
o'clock, the surgeons, upon opening the 
Queen's wound, found the mortification 
was not spread ; and upon cutting off 
what was already mortified, declared 
she might recover. This appeared so 
inconsistent with their declarations some 
hours before, and in my opinion showed 
so much ignorance, that if a life of this 
consequence, committed to the care of 
four of the best physicians and three of 
the best surgeons in England, received 
no better assistance from their skill, 
how natural it is to deplore the situation 
of those whose safety depends on the 
sagacity of these professions, and how 
reasonable to despise those who put 
their trust in such aids ! Not that I am 
so unjust to surgery as to put that 
science upon the same foot with physic ; 
and for my own part I firmly believe 
there was not the least mortification 
begun, when they ignorantly pro- 
nounced there was. . . . 

The King had been particularly 
anxious this whole day from what the 
Qiieen had said with regard to her 
dying of a Wednesday, which could 
not be much wondered at, since a mind 
much less addicted to superstitions than 
his Majesty's might have been a little 
affected. . . . Could it then be sur- 
prising that a man who believed in 
ghosts and witches should not be 
proof ? . . . 

During this time the King talked 
perpetually to Lord Hervey ... of 
the Qiieen's good qualities. . . . He 
said she was the best wife, the best 
mother, the best companion, the best 
friend, and the best woman that ever 
was born ; . . . that he had never seen 
her out of humour in his life, that he had 
passed more hours with her than he 
believed any other two people in the 
world had ever passed together, and 



that he had never been tired in her 
company one minute. . . . 

These were the terms in v\'hich he 
was forever now talking of the Queen, 
and in which he likewise talked to her ; 
and yet so unaccountable were the sutl- 
den sallies of his temper, and so little 
was he able or willing to command 
them, that in the midst of all this flow 
of tenderness he hardly ever went into 
her room that he did not, even in this- 
moving situation, snub her for some- 
thing or other she said or did. When 
her constant uneasiness, from the sick- 
ness in her stomach and the soreness of 
her wound, would make her shift her 
posture every minute, he would say to 
her, " How the devil should you sleep, 
when you will never lie still a moment ?" 
. . . When the King came into hei' 
room in the morning, as she lay with 
her eyes fixed at a point in the air . . . 
the King with a loud and quick voice 
said to her, " i^Jotz Diezi, qxi' est-ce-qiie 
V021S regardez? Coinnient peut-on 
Jixe}- ses yeiix comtne ga? Jos veux 
ressemblent a ceux d' lui veaii a qui 
on vient de coitper la go7-ge !" . . . 

About ten o'clock on Sunday night — 
the King being in bed and asleep on the 
floor at the feet of the Queen's bed, and 
the Princess Emily in a couch-bed in a 
corner of the room — the Qiieen began 
to rattle in her throat ; and Mrs. PurceL 
giving the alarm that she was expiring,, 
all in the room started up. Princess- 
Caroline was sent for, and Lord Her- 
vey, but before the last arrived the 
Qiieen was just dead. All she said 
before she died, was, " I have now got 
an asthma. Open the window." . . . 

The King kissed the face and hands 
of the lifeless body several times, but 
in a few minutes left the Qiieen's apart- 
ment. . . . The grief he felt for the 
Qiieen, as it was universally known 
and showed a tenderness of which the 
world thought him before utterly in- 




A)U[.\ 



11/// W.- 






( See page 253.) 



Kino- George II. and Oueen Caroline 251 



capable, made him for some time more 
popular and better spoken of than he 
had ever been before this incident, or 
than I believe he ever will be again. 
He was thoroughly unaffected on this 
occasion, and by being so (as odd as it 



3. Lord Chesterfield's Character of 
George II. (Works, Vol. II. p. 434-) 

. . . Everything in his composition 
was little ; and he had all the weak- 
nesses of a little mind, without any of 
the virtues, or even the vices, of a great 



may seem to say this) perplexed those one. He loved to act the King, but 



who were about him. 



2. Lord Chesterfield's character of 
Qiieen Caroline. (Works, Vol. II. 
P- 437-) 

Qiieen Caroline had lively, pretty 
parts, a quick conception, and some 
degree of female knowledge ; and 
would have been an agreeable woman 
in social, if she had not aimed at being 
a great one in public life. . . . 

Cunning and perfidy were the means 
she made use of in business, as all 
women do, for want of better. She 
showed her art most in her management 
of the King, whom she governed abso- 
lutely, by a seeming complaisance and 
obedience to all his humours ; she even 
favoured and promoted his gallanteries. 
She had a dangerous ambition, for it 
was attended with courage, and, if she 
had lived much longer, might have 
proved fatal either to herself or the con- 
stitution. . . . 

Upon the whole, the agreeable 
■vjoman was liked by most people ; but 
the ^ueen was neither esteemed, be- 
loved nor trusted, by anybodj' but the 
King. 

A Ballad of the Day. (From 
Morris: Early Hanoverians, p. 82.) 

You may strut, dapper George, but 'twill all 

be in vain; 
We know 'tis Queen Caroline, not you, that 

reign — 
You govern no more than Don Philip of 

Spain. 
Then if you would have us foil down and 

adore you. 
Lock up your fat spouse, as your dad did 

before you. 



mistook the part; and the Royal dig- 
nity shrunk into the Electoral pride. 
He was educated upon that scale, and 
never enlarged its dimensions with his 
dominions. As Elector of Hanover he 
thought himself great ; as King of 
Great Britain only rich. Avarice, the 
meanest of all passions, was his ruling 
one ; and I never knew him deviate 
into any generous action. . . . 

In Council he was excessively timor- 
ous, and thought by many to be so in 
person ; but of this I can say nothing 
on my own knowledge. In his dress 
and in his conversation he affected the 
hero so much, that from thence only 
many called his courage in question. ., . . 

Little things, as he has often told me 
himself, affected him more than great 
ones ; and this was so true, that I have 
often seen him put so much out of 
humour at his private levee, by a mis- 
take or blunder of a valet dc chambre, 
that the gaping crowd admitted to his 
public levee have, from his looks and 
silence, concluded that he had just 
received some dreadful news. Tacitus 
would always have been deceived by 
him. . . . 

He well knew that he was governed 
by the Qiieen, while she lived ; and 
that she was governed by Sir Robert 
Walpole : but he kept that secret 
inviolably, and flattered himself that 
nobody had discovered it. . . . 

He was very well-bred ; but it was 
in a stiff and formal manner, and pi'o- 
duced in others that restraint which 
they saw he was under himself. . . . 
He died unlamented, though not un- 
pi'aised because he was dead. 



252 King George II. and Queen Caroline 



Upon the whole, he was rather a 
"weak than a bad man or King. His 
government was mild as to prerogative, 
but burthensome as to taxes. ... I 
have dwelt the longer upon this char- 
acter, because I was so long and so 
well acquainted with it; for above 
thirty years I was alwaj-s near his 
person, and had constant opportunities 
of observing him, both in his Regal 
robes and in his undress. I have ac- 
companied him in his pleasures, and 
been employed in his business. I have, 
by turns, been as well and as ill with him 
as any man in England. Impartial 
and unprejudiced, I have drawn this 
character from the life, and after a 
forty years sitting. 



4. Extract from Mrs. Calderwood's 
Account of her Journey into England. 
(In Coltness Collection, Maitland Club, 
1843, p. 118.) 

1756. 

... I went one morning to the Park 
in hopes to see the Duke review a troop 
of the Horse Guards, but he was not 
there ; but the Guards were very pretty. 
Sail Blackwood and Miss Buller were 
with me ; they were afraid to push 
near for the croud, but I was resolved 
to get forward, so pushed in. The}' 
were very surly, and one of them 
asked me where I would be, would I 
have my toes trode off? " Is your toes 
trode off?" said I. "No," said he. 
" Then give me your place and I'll 
take care of my toes." "But they are 
going to fire," said he. " Then its 
time for you to march off," said I, " for 
I can stand fire. I wish j'our troops 
may do as well." On which he sneaked 
off and gave me his place. ... 

I paid some visits, and went to see 
Greenwich Hospitall, which is a ridicu- 
lous fine thing. The view is very 
pretty, which you see just as well in a 
rary-show glass. No wonder the Eng- 
lish are transported with a place they 



can see about them in. The only fine 
houses I went to see more were the 
King's at Kensingtoun, and the Jew's 
I wrote you of. The palace looks bet- 
ter within than without, and there is 
some very fine marbles, pictures and 
mirrors in it. But I could not see the 
private apartment of the old goodman, 
which they say is a great curiosity. 
There are a small bed with silk cur- 
tains, two sattin quilts and no blanket, 
a hair mattress ; a plain wicker basket 
stands on a table, with a silk nightgown 
and night-cap in it ; a candle with an 
extinguisher ; some billets of wood on 
each side of the fire. He goes to bed 
alone, rises, lights liis fire and mends it 
himself, and nobody knows when he 
rises, which is very early, and is upp 
severall hours before he calls anybody. 
He dines in a small room adjoining, in 
which there is nothing but very com- 
mon things. He sometimes, they say, 
sups with his daughters and their com- 
pany, and is very merry and sings 
French songs, but at present he is in 
very low spirits. 



^. Lord Waldegrave's character of 
George II. (Memoirs, London, iSai, 
p. 4.) 

175S. 

The King is in his 75th year; but 
temperance and an excellent constitu- 
tion have hitherto preserved him from 
many of the infirmities of old age. . . . 

He has as much personal bravery as 
any man, though his political courage 
seems somewhat problematical : how- 
ever, it is a fault on the right side ; for 
had he always been as firm and un- 
daunted in the closet as he shewed 
himself at Oudenarde and Dettingen, 
he might not have proved quite so 
good a king in this limited monarchy. 

In the drawing-room, he is gracious 
and polite to the ladies, and remarkably 
cheerful and familiar with those who 
are handsome, or with the few of his 




C A S A R 1 
P I O r E I, I C 
() R B 1 S 
A R T I V M 






mij^ss^cc 



G 



T N \" I C T 1 S S I M O 

A V c; "\' S T O 
PA C PK I CAT OR 1 
S T A T O R I 



7r.ayaKJPiZ7ff7\-tt'«:i3A7> <t:vjx!i.ft'M.u 



n l^ © ■ 



C See page 2153.) 



King George II. and Oueen Caroline 25 



old acquaintance who were beauties in 
his younger days. . . . 

His servants are never disturbed with 
any unnecessary waiting ; for he is reg- 
ular in all his motions to the greatest 



exactness, except on particular occa- 
sions, when he outruns his own orders, 
and expects those who are to attend 
him before the time of his aj)point- 
ment. . . . 



EDITORIAL. 

THE SEVEN YEARS* WAR. 



["It is a turning point in our 
national history, as it is a turning point 
in the history of the world," writes 
Green referring to the Seven Years' 
War. It made England mistress of 
North America and potential ruler over 
India. It was the starting point for a 
period of unparalleled ^vealth and 
prosperity. 

So complicated a subject lends itself 
so little to our system of illustrating 
events by contemporary narratives that 
we must pass it over with a few brief 
remarks. 

In 1740 Frederick the Great, suc- 
ceeding to the Prussian throne, wrote 
to Voltaire : " The time has come for 
an entire change in the old political 
system, the stone has again broken 
loose which once descended on the 
four-metalled image of Nebuchadnez- 
zar and destroyed it utterly." He 
inaugurated the change by descending 
himself on the Austrian province of 
Silesia. It was, indeed, as he said 
himself "the boldest, most rapid and 
grandest undertaking in which a prince 
of bis house had ever been engaged." 
Grimly the young Queen, Maria The- 
resa, fought for her rights; with small 
support from her husband, who was 
such a nonentity that she listened at 
the door when he held interviews, 
ready to interrupt if he seemed about 
to commit himself, she held the enemy 
at bay as long as she could. In Eng- 
land, indeed, she found an ally willing 
at least to pour streams of gold into 



her lap. Frederick the Great seemed 
cut out bj' nature to be the hereditary- 
enemy of the House of Hanover : " We 
must clip this prince's wings," said 
George II to the Polish-Saxon envoy ; 
"he is too dangerous for both of us." 

Frederick for his part, after the 
battle of MoUwitz, had no lack of 
friends and was able to carry out a 
threat he had once made to the English 
envoy, Guy Dickens. " If the worst 
comes to the worst," he had said, "I 
shall join with France and beat and 
bite and devastate in all directions." 
It was as a part of this policy that in 
1742 he put up his puppet Emperor, 
Charles Albert of Bavaria, who took 
the name of Charles VII. The French 
and the Prussians, indeed, did not pull 
well together ; there was tardiness and 
unwillingness on the one hand, and 
something like treachery on the other. 
Frederick made his own peace, at Bres- 
lau, and left France to continue the 
struggle. The Due de Noaille was 
defeated at Dettingen, in which battle 
George II took part, conducting him- 
self with considerable bravery. 

In 1744 Frederick re-entered the 
arena, partly through jealousy of Eng- 
land ; he wished, he declared to Pode- 
wils, that the Devil would take his uncle 
George. He made a new treaty with 
Louis XV by which the prospective 
spoils were to be divided between him- 
self, the Emperor and the French King ; 
but again the old jealousies arose, and 
again Frederick, enabled by his bril- 



2 54 



The Seven Years' War 



liant victories of Hohenfriedberg, Sohr 
and Kesselsdorf to make advantageous 
terms for himself at Dresden, withdrew 
from the struggle. The French called 
him a "filigree king," a regu\a.r yripon. 
He retained Silesia, but Maria Theresa 
never really acquiesced in her fate. 
The interval of peace she employed in 
strengthening her resources. She in- 
tended to renew the contest with over- 
whelming nuinbers ; immediately after 
the Peace of Dresden the Zarina, Eliz- 
abeth, had offered her 90,000 men; the 
King of France would be easy to win. 
Saxony and Sweden might already be 
counted upon. Prussia was to be sud- 
denly attacked and utterly dismem- 
bered. Elizabeth of Russia hated 
Frederick with the implacable hatred 
of an utterly depraved woman. She 
knew what he thought of her drunken 
orgies and vulgar intrigues ; officious 
tongues had retailed to her his scathing 
witticisms at her expense. She was 
more fierce in her desire to ruin him 
than Maria Theresa herself. As for 
France, she had remained outwardly 
on good terms with Frederick ; indeed 
in 17^3, when the defeat of George 
Washington at Fort Duquesne made 
certain the prospect of a long and 
bitter struggle with England, Frederick 
urged the French ambassador to invade 
Hanover. "That is the surest means 

of making this change his tune," 

he said, using an epithet so strong for 
George H that the envoy did not dare 
repeat it to his government. But sud- 
denly his own tune changed ; anxiety 
for the safety of his electorate induced 
George II to sign with him the Con- 
vention of Westminster. France and 
Austria then joined hands. 

Frederick had secret agents who kept 
him informed of the plans of his advers- 
aries ; he had no intention of waiting 
to be attacked. " If this lady," he said 
-to the English envoy, pointing at the 



same time to a portrait of Maria The- 
resa which hung on the wall, " if this 
lady wishes war, she shall have it quick." 
"Look into my face," he had said a 
moment before; "does my nose look 
like one that fingers can be wagged at.' 
By God, I'll not stand it ! " 

On the actual operations of the war 
there is no need to dwell. Frederick 
fell upon Saxony, but the siege of Pirna 
cost him much invaluable time. Eng- 
land was hard pressed both in Amei-ica 
and in India and could not at once come 
to his aid. The allies closed in around 
him. He won Prague but was disas- 
trously defeated at Kolin, and obliged 
to abandon his plan of a Bohemian 
campaign. The Duke of Cumberland, 
who was finally put in command of a 
Hanoverian-Hessian force, ran into a 
C7il de sac and was obliged to sign the 
convention of Kloster Severn. Fred- 
erick's fortunes sank lower and lower; 
he tried to bribe Madame de Pompadour 
to bring about a peace with France. 
Then the battle of Rossbach changed 
all ; 20,000 Prussians put to flight 
more than twice that number of French ; 
the battle of Leuthen, which soon fol- 
lowed, would alone, to quote Napoleon, 
have sufficed to make Frederick im- 
mortal. 

England now awakened to her respon- 
sibilities ; Pitt cried out in parliament, 
" I feel the most grateful sentiments of 
veneration and zeal for a Prince who 
stands the unshaken bulwark of Europe 
against the most powerful and malig- 
nant confederacy that ever yet has 
threatened the independence of man- 
kind." Four million pounds was voted, 
and a really capable general, Ferdinand 
of Brunswick, was placed at the head of 
the Hanoverian army. 

Year after year, with dwindling 
forces, Frederick and Ferdinand held 
their own. The latter' s brilliant vic- 
tory at Minden offset the former's 



The Seven Years' War 



255 



crushing defeat b_v the Russians at 
Kunersdorf and tlie surrender of 13,000 
men at Maxen. Liegnitz and Torgau 
helped still further to restore the bal- 
ance ; but even victories meant the loss 
of men whom it was impossible now to 
replace. Frederick's enemies could 
draw from a population nimibering 60 
million souls, Prussia could boast of 
but four million and a half. The 
French often outnumbered Ferdinand 
of Brunswick by two to one, while in 
1 761 , Frederick could muster but 96,000 
against three times as many of the Rus- 
sians and Austrians. 

In the midst of all this came the news 
from England that Pitt had fallen and 
been replaced by the pacific Bute, who 
did not renew the military convention 
with Prussia. The subsidies ceased ; 
Frederick was coldly told to make 
peace even at the price of some of his 
provinces. Bute was ready for his own 
part to sacrifice almost any of his recent 
conquests ; ready, too, to descend to 
almost any depths of political ignominy. 
Could disloyalty to a former ally have 
well gone further than the sending of 
an envoy to the Russian court to urge 
it to continue its armies in the field, lest 
Frederick, having free play against 
Maria Theresa, might push his advan- 
tage and thus prolong the struggle? It 
■was the news of conduct like this that 



made England's own representative, 
Mitchell, cry out in agony, " I am tired 
of my accursed trade." 

Frederick himself took matters more 
calmly. "The English thought," he 
wrote later, "that money did every- 
thing and that there was no money 
except in England." But he never for- 
gave this base desertion ; when Eng- 
land's war with her American colonies 
broke out, all his sympathies were with 
the latter, and on the Hessian soldiers 
who were bought to fight across the 
water he placed the saine tax, when 
they crossed his domains, as on cattle 
going to slaughter. He was kept from 
despair now by the death of his arch 
enemy Elizabeth, whose successor Peter 
the Third had always looked on Fred- 
erick as a hero, and is even said to have 
sent him anonymous warnings. The 
very troops that had fought against 
him were made for a moment to fight 
on his side, and though the death of 
Peter soon necessitated their recall they 
were not again employed against him. 
The Peace of Hubertsburg finally put 
an end to the war, from which Frederick 
emerged neither richer nor poorer in 
land, but immeasurably higher in pres- 
tige. England received from the French, 
Canada and that part of the present 
United States which is east of the 
Mississipi.] 



GROUP XXVII. 



THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE III. 



I. Extracts from Waldegrave's 
Mem-oirs. (London, 1S21, p. 63.) 

1756- 
I had been appointed governor to the 
Prince of Wales towards the end of the 
year 1752, when Earl Harcourt re- 
signed. ... I found his Royal Pligh- 
ness uncommonly full of princely prej- 
udices, contracted in the nursery, and 



improved by the society of bed-chamber 
women, and pages of the back-stairs. 

As a right system of education 
seemed quite iinpracticable, the best 
which could be hoped for was to give 
him true notions of common things ; to 
instruct him by conversation, rather 
than by books ; and sometimes, under 
the disguise of amusement, to entice 



2s6 



The Accession of George III. 



him to tne pursuit oi more serious 
studies. . . . 

1758. 

The Prince of Wales is entering into 
his 2ist year, and it would be unfair to 
decide upon his character in the earl)' 
stages of life, ■when there is so much 
time for improvement. 

His parts, though not excellent, will 
be found very tolerable, if ever they are 
properly exercised. He is strictly 
honest, but wants that frank and open 
behaviour which makes honesty appear 
amiable. When he had a very scanty 
allowance, it was one of his favorite 
maxims that men should be just before 
they are generous : his income is now 
very considerably augmented, but his 
generosity has not increased in equal 
proportion. His religion is free from 
all hypocrisy, but is not of the most 
charitable sort ; he has rather too much 
attention to the sins of his neighbour. 

He has spirit, but not of the active 
kind ; and does not want resolution, 
but it is mixed with too much obstinacy. 
He has great command of his passions, 
and will seldom do wrong, except when 
he mistakes wrong for right ; but as 
often as this shall happen, it will be 
difficult to undeceive him, because he 
is uncommonly indolent, and has strong 
prejudices. 

His want of application and aversion 
to business would be far less dangerous, 
was he eager in the pursuit of pleasure ; 
for the transition from pleasure to busi- 
ness is both shorter and easier than 
from a state of total inaction. 

He has a kind of unhappiness in his 
temper, which, if it be not conquered 
before it has taken too deep a root, will 
be a source of frequent anxiety. When- 
ever he is displeased, his anger does not 
break out with heat and violence ; but 
he becomes sullen and silent, and re- 
tires to his closet ; not to compose his 
mind by study or contemplation, but 



merely to indulge the melancholy enjoy- 
ment of his own ill humor. Even 
when the fit is ended, unfavorable 
symptoms very frequently return, 
which indicate that on certain occasions 
his Royal Highness has too correct a 
memory. 

Though I have mentioned his good 
and bad qualities, without flattery, and 
without aggravation, allowances should 
still be made, on account of his youth,, 
and his bad education. . . . The 
mother and the nursery always pre- 
vailed. 

During the course of the last year, 
there has indeed, been some alteration ; 
the authority of the nursery has grad- 
ually declined, and the Earl of Bute, 
by the assistance of the mother, has 
now the entire confidence. But whether 
this change will be greatly to bis Royal 
Highness' s advantage, is a nice ques- 
tion, which cannot hitherto be deter- 
mined with any certainty. 

1755- 
. . . He [Lord Bute] had been a 

lord of the bedchamber to the late 

prince [Frederick] ; has a good person, 

fine legs, and a theatrical air of the 

greatest importance. 

There is an extraordinary appear- 
ance of wisdom, both in his look and 
manner of speaking ; for whether the 
subject be serious or trifling, he is 
equally pompous, slow, and sententious. 

Not contented with being wise, he 
would be thought a polite scholar, and 
a man of great erudition : but has the 
misfortune never to succeed except with 
those who are exceeding ignorant : for 
his historical knowledge is chiefly taken 
from tragedies, wherein he is very 
deeply read ; and his classical learning 
extends no farther than a French trans- 
lation. 

The late Prince of Wales, -who was. 
not overnice in the choice of ministers, 
used frequently to say that Bute was a 




I JHif'ias ir (Efinfej? iTGrimlrftir WTTurrnrSru fetfiarimr ^j^^jr'f-^-TifiJl^ffe^^iin^MnSr^ieirS 



oTiicfHcfi 






u vu-e r,^ icff 5£f j:;pttS^intlIK«ar5«K;m 



hiii^i6.fr^r^T^t'-^x^C?n^€Cj^,x{i}ax., --- ^ 



■ KujJ jtim Jirt" 3tat«mirvtto noiWn . 



,^-11:5 itf fir -_^ni5^ =.«£^ ^^^««^ .' 

SttTnwTit l^iTeif tSufew t^C-icG, 



l&u) idle5 -<%ili3 mmifi--c j^fT- 

.MLtClcatf ^ -HnlTa-T- ,^-n-iilic njuljr-,. 



:J^ai(er^&E£^^(&r<^IucC | ^ :je£i^.wp^,iw«Ja«^$rfgJ* JUwa, J jaa^ttcCRagaa^m tmts iW, 



'\3osnxv J^ iSei&Ejj" aittaa* nrlji-m . 



FREDERICK AND PETER MAKING 

Contemporary news leaf. 

( See page 255.) 



The Accession of George III. 



257 



fine showy man, who would make an 
excellent ambassador in a court where 
there was no business. Such was his 
Royal Highness' s opinion of the noble 
earl's political abilities; but the sagac- 
ity of the princess dowager has discov- 
ered other accomplishments, of which 
the prince her husband may not per- 
haps have been the most competent 
judge. . . . 

1756- 
. . . The Princess of Wales's unlim- 
ited confidence in the Earl of Bute 
has been already mentioned ; and by 
the good offices of the mother, he 
also became the avowed favorite of the 
young prince, who was just entering 
into his nineteenth year, the time of his 
majority, in case the king had been 
dead. 



2. Lord Chesterfield's Character of 
Lord Bute. Written in 1764. (In 
Works, Vol. n. p. 470.) 

The Earl of Bute was of an ancient 
family in Scotland. . . . He married 
the daughter of Wortley Montague, by 
Lady Mary Pierrepont, eminent for her 
parts and her vices. . . . She proved 
an immense fortune by the death of her 
father and mother, who, disinheriting 
their son, left her five or six hundred 
thousand pounds. . . . 

He [Lord Bute] came to town, five 
or six years before the death of the late 
Frederick Prince of Wales, to whom 
he wholly attached himself. He soon 
got to be at the head of the pleasures of 
that little, idle, fi-ivolous and dissipated 
Court. He was the Tntendant of balls, 
the Coryfhoeus of plays, in which he 
acted himself, and so grew into a sort 
of favourite of that merry Prince. The 
Scandalous Chronicle says, that he was 
still a greater favourite of the Princess 
of Wales : I will not, nor cannot decide 
upon that fact. . . . 



When Frederick Prince of Wales 
died, and the present King George the 
Third became immediate Heir to the 
Crown, Lord Bute very prudently at- 
tached himself wholly to him, not only 
with the approbation, but I believe, at 
the request, of the Princess Dowager. 
In this he succeeded beyond his most 
sanguine wishes. He entirely engrossed 
not only the affections, but even the 
senses of the young Prince, who seemed 
to have made a total surrender of them 
all to Lord Bute. In this interval, 
between the death of the Princess of 
Wales and the expected death of King 
George the Second, the Princess Dow- 
ager and Lord Bute agreed to keep the 
young Prince enf irely to themselves ; 
none but their immediate and lowest 
creatures were suffered to approach him 
except at his levees, ■ where none are 
seen as they are ; he saw nobody, and 
nobody saw him : Lord Bute, indeed, 
was with him alone some hours every 
day, to instruct him, as he pretended, 
in the art of Government ; but whether 
or no any man labours to instruct and 
inform the Prince whom he means one 
day to govern is with me a very doubt- 
ful point. - . 

At length the wished-for day came, 
and the death of King George the Second 
made room for King George the Third. 
He, like a new Sultan, was lugged out of 
the Seraglio by the Princess and Lord 
Bute, and placed upon the Throne. 
Here the new scene opened : Lord 
Bute arrived from the greatest favour 
to the highest power and took no care 
to dissemble or soften either, in the 
eyes of the public, who always look 
upon them with envy and malignity ; 
but on the contrary, avowed them both 
openly. He interfered in everything, 
disposed of everything, and undertook 
everything, much too soon for his inex- 
perience in business. 



258 



The Accession of George III. 



3. Lord Chesterfield's character of 
Pitt. Written in 1763. (In Works, 
Vol. II. p. 467.) 

Mr. Pitt owed his rise to the most 
considerable posts and power in this 
kingdom singly to his own abilities. 
In him they supplied the want of birth 
and fortune, -which latter in others too 
often supply the want of the former. 
He was a younger brother of a very 
new family, and his fortune only an 
annuity of one hundred pounds a year. 
His constitution refused him the usual 
pleasures, and his genius forbad him 
the idle dissipations, of youth ; for so 
early as at the age of sixteen he was 
the martyr of an hereditary gout. He 
therefore employed the leisure, which 
that tedious and painful distemper 
either procured or allowed him, in 
acquiring a great fund of premature and 
useful knowledge. . . His ruling pas- 
sion -was an unbounded ambition, which, 
when supported by great abilities, and 
crowned with great success, make w^hat 
the world calls "a great man." He 
was haughty, imperious, impatient of 
contradiction, and over-bearing: qual- 
ities which too often accompany, but 
always clog great ones. . . . 

He came young into Parliament, and 
upon that great theatre soon equalled 
the oldest and the ablest actors. His 
eloquence was of every kind, and he 
excelled in the argumentative as well as 
in the declamatory way. But his invec- 
tives were terrible, and uttered with 
such energy of diction, and stern dig- 
nity of action and countenance, that he 
intimidated those who were the most 
willing and the best able to encounter 
him. Their arms fell out of their 
hands, and they shrunk under the 
ascendant which his genius gained over 
theirs. . . . 

The weight of his popularity, and 
his universally acknowledged abilities, 
obtruded him upon King George the 



Second, to whom he was personally 
obnoxious. He was made Secretary of 
State ; in this difficult and delicate sit- 
uation. ... he managed with such 
ability that, while he served the King 
more effectually ... he still preserved 
all his credit and popularity with the 
public ; whom he assured and convinced, 
that the protection and defence of Han- 
over, with an army of seventy-five 
thousand men in British pay, was the 
only possible method of securing our 
possessions or acquisitions in North 
America. So much easier is it to 
deceive than to undeceive mankind. 



4. Horace Walpole, Memoirs of 
George II. (London, 1S47, p. 84.) 

1758. 
Pitt was now arrived at undisturbed 
possession of that influence in affairs at 
which his ambition had aimed, and 
which his presumption had made him 
flatter himself he could exert like those 
men of superior genius, whose talents 
have been called forth by some crisis to 
retrieve a sinking nation. He had said 
the last year to the Duke of Devon- 
shire, " My Lord, I am sure I can save 
this country, and nobody else can." 
It were ingratitude to him to say that 
he did not give such a reverberation to 
our stagnating Councils, as exceedingly 
altered the appearance of our fortune. 
He warded off the evil hour that 
seemed approaching ; he infused vigour 
into oiu' arms ; he taught the nation to 
speak again as England used to speak 
to Foreign Powers ; and so far from 
dreading invasions from France, he 
affected to turn us into invaders. 



^. Extract from Walpole' s Memoirs 
of the Reign of George III. (London 
and New York, 1894.) 

No British monarch has ascended the 
throne with so many advantages as 
George the Third. Being the first of 



The Accession of George III. 



259 



his line bom in England, the prejudice 
against his family as foreigners ceased 
in his person — Hanover was no Iqnger 
the native soil of our Princes; conse- 
quently, attachment to the Electorate 
was not likely to govern our councils, 
as it had done in the last two reigns. 
This circumstance, too, of his birth, 
shifted the unpopularity of foreign 
extraction from the House of Bruns- 
wick to the Stuarts. In the flower 
and bloom of youth, George had a 
handsome, open, and honest counte- 
nance ; and with the favour that attends 
the outward accomplishments of his 
age, he had none of the vices that fall 
under the censure of those who are 
past enjoying them themselves. 

The moment of his accession was 
fortunate beyond example. . . . The 
administration was firm, in good har- 
mony with one another, and headed by 
the most successful genius [Pitt] that 
•ever presided over our councils. Con- 
quests had crowned our arms with 
wonderful circumstances of glory and 
fortune ; and the young King seemed 
to have the option of extending our 
victories and acquisitions, or of giving 
peace to the world, by finding himself 
in a situation so favourable, that neither 
his ambition nor moderation could have 
been equitably reprehended. . . . 

A passionate, domineering woman, 
and a Favourite, without talents, soon 
drew a cloud over this shining prospect. 
. . . The measure of war was pushed, 
without even a desire that it should be 
successful ; and . . . although success- 
ful, it was unnaturally checked by a 
peace, too precipitate, too indigested, 
and too shameful, to merit the coldest 
eulogy of moderation. . . . 

In his first council the King named 
his brother the Duke of York, and 
Lord Bute, of the Cabinet. . . . The 
King's speech to his council afforded 
matter of remark, and gave early speci- 



inen of who was to be the confidential 
minister, and what measures were to 
be pursued : for it was drawn by Lord 
Bute. ... It talked of a bloody and 
expensive zvai-, and of obtaiiiing an 
honourable a?id lasting- peace. Thus 
was it delivered ; but Mr. Pitt went to 
Lord Bute that evening, and, after an 
altercation of three hours, prevailed 
that in the printed copy the words 
should be changed to a?i expensive but 
Just and necessary war ; and that after 
the. ^■lords, /io?zourable peace should be 
inserted, in co?icert -with our allies. 
... It was two o'clock of the follow- 
ing afternoon before the King would 
yield to the alteration. . . . 

Mr. Pitt was too quick-sighted not to 
perceive what v^'ould be the complexion 
of the new reign. His favourite war 
was already struck at. He himself bad 
for some time been on the coldest 
terms with Lord Bute ; for possession 
of power, and reversion of power 
could not fail to make two natures so 
haughty, incompatible. It was said, 
and I believe with truth, that an outset 
so unpromising to his darling measures 
made Mr. Pitt propose to the Duke of 
Newcastle a firm union against the 
Favourite. . . . Whether these two 
men, so powerful in Parliament and in 
the nation, could have balanced the 
headlong affection that attends every 
new young Prince, is uncertain, — I 
think they could. A war so triumphant 
had captivated the whole country. The 
Favourite was unknown, ungracious 
and a Scot : his connexion with the 
Princess, an object of scandal. ... At 
least the union of Pitt and Newcastle 
would have checked the torrent, which 
soon carried everything in favour of 
Prerogative. Newcastle's time-serving 
undermined Mr. Pitt, was destructive 
to himself, threw away all the advan- 
tages of the war, and brought the 
country to the brink of ruin. . . . 



26o The Accession of George III. 



As far as could be discerned of the 
King's natural disposition it was hu- 
mane and benevolent. . . . Silence 
served him to bear with unwelcome 
ministers, or to part with them. His 
childhood was tinctured with obstinacy : 
it w^as adopted at the beginning of his 
reign, and called firmness, but did not 
prove to be his complexion. In truth, 
it would be difficult to draw his char- 
acter in positive colours. He had 
neither passions nor activity. He re- 
signed himself obsequiously to the gov- 
ernment of his mother and Lord Bute : 
learned, and even entered with art into 
the lessons they inspired, but added 
nothing of his own. When the task 
was done, he relapsed into indifference 
and indolence till roused to the next 
day's part. 

The indecent and injudicious precip- 
itation with which the Favourite's fac- 
tion hurried towards peace, justified any 
steadiness Mr. Pitt could exert to keep 
the balance where he had placed it, in 
our own hands. . . . 

While the attention of mankind hung 
on the negotiation [with France, for 
peace], the King's messengers were 
suddenly sent forth to all privy Coun- 
cillors to meet at one o'clock, at St. 
James's July 8th, on urgent and impor- 
tant business. The business itsself was 
an absolute secret. Everybody con- 
cluded that so solemn and unusual a 
summons of the Council was to give 
fuller sanction to peace. How great 
v/as the general surprise when they 
heard his Majesty had convened this 
assembly to notify his intended mar- 
riage with the princess of Mecklenburg 
Strelitz ! A resolution taken and con- 
ducted with so much mystery, that till 
that hour perhaps not six men in Eng- 
land knew such a Princess existed. . . . 

The King was fallen in love with 
Lady Sarah Lennox, sister of the Duke 
of Richmond ; a very young lad}' of the 



most blooming beaut\'. . . . What 
concurred to make her formidable to 
the mother and favourite, was, her 
being under the tutorage of Mr. Fox, 
her eldest sister's husband; and in 
truth, she and her family spared no 
assiduity to fix the young monarch's 
heart. . . . The King' s overtures wei^e 
so encouraging, that Fox's views ex- 
tended even to placing the young lady 
on the throne ... he (Fox) left Lady 
Sarah at Holland House, where she 
appeared every morning in a field close 
to the great road (where the King 
passed on horseback) in a fancied habit, 
making hay. 

Such mutual propensity fixed the re- 
solution of the Princess. One, Colonel 
Graeme, was despatched in the most 
private manner as a traveller, and vested 
with no character, to visit various little 
Protestant Courts, and make report of 
the qualifications of the several un- 
married princesses. Beauty, and still 
less, talents, were not, it is likely, the 
first objects of his instructions. On the 
testimony of this man the golden apple 
was given to the Princess of Mecklen- 
burg ; and the marriage precipitately 
concluded. ... So complete was the 
King's deference to the will of his 
mother, that he blindly accepted the 
bride she had chosen for him ; though 
to the very day of the council, he carried 
on his courtship to Lady Sarah ; and 
she did not doubt of receiving the crown 
from him, till she heard the public 
declaration of its being designed for 
another. 



6. Extract from the Stuart MSS. 
(In Jesse, Memoirs of Geo. III. Vol. I. 
p. 90.) 

{^Account of ^ueen Charlotte by 
Sophia St?iart, daitghter-in-la-w 
of Lord JSi/te.) 

In the latter years of Qiieen Char- 
lotte's life, I used often to spend some 
days at the Castle, and in one of these 



The Accession of George III. 261 



visits heard her Majesty describe her 
own wedding. She described her life 
at Mecklenburg as one of extreme re- 
tirement. They dressed only en 7-obc 
dc chambre except on Sundays, on 
which day she put on her best gown, 
and after service, which was very long, 
took an airing in the coach and six, 
attended by guards and all the state she 
could muster. She had not "dined at 
table" at the period I am speaking of. 
One morning, her eldest brother, of 
whom she seems to have stood in great 
awe, came to her room in company 
with the Duchess, her mother. He 
told her to prepare her best clothes, for 
they were to have grand convert to 
receive an ambassador from the King 
of England, and that she should for the 
first time dine with them. He added : 
— "You will sit next him at dinner-: 
mind what you say, and ne faites pas 
V enfant''' — a favourite expression of 
his^" and try to amuse him, and show 
him that you are not a fool." She 
then asked her mother if she was to 
put on her blue tabby — '■'• et mes 
bijoux}" — '■'■ jMoji enfant," said the 
Duchess, " tu n' en as point." And 
the Qiieen produced her garnet ear- 
rings, which -were strings of beads 
sown on a plate, about the size of a 
half-crown, and were then in fashion ; 
but which, as she said, a housemaid of 
these daj's would despise. Thus at- 
tired, she followed her mother into the 
saloon, and Mr. Drummond was intro- 
duced to her. To her great surprise 
her brother led her out first, which she 
supposed he did because it was her first 
appearance. Mr. Drummond sat at 
her right hand. She asked him about 
bis journej', and of England, and then 
added : — " On me dit que votre Roi 
est tres extreinemcnt beau et tres-aim- 
able" which seemed to raise a smile 
both in him and the Duke. A little 
frightened, she next added: — '■'■ Appa- 



remment vous etes vcnti dcinander la 
Princesse dc Prusse. On dit qu' elle 
est t res-belle ct qu' elle sera voire 
Peine?" " fc demande pardon a 
votre Altessc ; je n'ai aucune com- 
?7iission pour cela." And the smiles 
were so striking that she had not cour- 
age to open her lips again. In a few 
minutes, however, the folding-doors 
fiew open to the saloon, which she saw 
splendidly illuminated ; and there ap- 
peared a table, two cushions, and every- 
thing prepared for a wedding. Her 
brother then gave her his hand ; and, 
leading her in, used his favourite ex- 
pression ; — '■'■Allans, ne faites pas 
V cnfa7it — tu vas etre Peine d' Aiigle- 
terre." Mr. Drummond then ad- 
vanced. The}' knelt down. The cere- 
mony, whatever it was, proceeded. 
She was laid on the sofa, upon which 
he laid his foot ; and they all embraced 
her, calling her, " la Peine." Mr. 
Drummond then gave her a magnificent 
ecriiz of diamonds, one jewel of which 
was a little crown which I have often 
seen her wear. The evening passed in 
admiring the jewels and putting them 
on. She declared from that moment 
she saw and knew nothing, and was 
quite bewildered. Mr. Drummond 
pressed for departure. She begged for 
one week, that she might take leave of 
every person and spot, and particularly 
of her mother, of whom she was very 
fond. She told me that she ran about 
from morning till night visiting tlie 
poor, to whom, she said, a nosegay or 
a little fruit were more acceptable than 
food. And wherever she lived she had 
a garden made for this purpose. She 
kept poultry also for the same object. 
When the day for her departure came, 
she set out for the sea-coast accom- 
panied by her mother, who consigned 
her to the hands of the Duchess of 
Ancaster and Lady Effingham ; she 
spoke of the agony of that parting, 



262 



The Accession of George III. 



even after so many years, in a manner 
that showed what it must have been. 
Her mother was in bad health, but 
promised to come over in the Spring, 
which, however, slie never lived to ful- 
fil. .. . She was an excellent French 
scholar ; well read in her own lan- 
guage ; wrote a very pretty hand ; 
played on the guitar and piano, or 
rather spinette, having learned of Bach, 
and sung very sweetly and correctly. 
She also danced a veiy fine minuet, the 
dance of the day ; had a lovely com- 
plexion, fine hair and teeth, and the 
neatest little petite figure, with a pecu- 
liar elegance. 



7. Extracts from Horace Walpole. 

Some coquet attempts, wrhich Lady 
Sarah [Lennox] afterwards made to 
recover his [George's] notice, and her 
stooping to bear the Qiieen's train as 
bridemaid, did her more prejudice than 
all that was invented against her. . . . 
In my opinion the King had thoughts 
of her as a wife, but wanted resolution 
to oppose his mother and Lord Bute. 
Fortunately, no doubt, in this instance ; 
for the daughter of a subject, and the 
sister-in-law of so ambitious and excep- 
tionable a man as Fox, would probably 
have been productive of most serious 
consequences. To avoid returning to 
this tojjic, I will only remember that, 
during the wedding service, on mention 
of Abraham and Sarah, the King could 
not conceal his confusion. And the 
day following, when every body was 
presented to the Q_ueen, Lord West- 
moreland, old and dimsighted, seeing 
Lady .Sarah in the rich habit of bride- 
maid, mistook her for Qiieen, and was 
going to kneel and kiss her hand. 

But while the arrival of the Qiieen 
was expected, and the approaching 
ceremonies of the wedding and corona- 
tion engrossed the attention of the pub- 



lic, affairs grew towards a serious crisis 
in the Cabinet. . . . 

In the end of August, the council 
had ordered their ultimate concessions 
to be drawn and sent to France. Mr. 
Pitt made the draught and carried it to 
Council. The other ministers thought 
it spoke his sense, not theirs ; or rather,, 
contained more of an ultimatum than 
they were disposed to adhere to.' In 
defence of his own inflexibility, Mr. 
Pitt spoke largely on the haughtiness of 
France, 

Lord Hardwicke said he approved 
our not submitting to their haughtiness, 
and congratulated his country in not 
having been behind hand with them in 
that respect. Lord Granville took the 
draught and applauded it exceedingly ; 
said it deserved to be inserted in the 
Acta Regia ; but for his part he did 
not love fine letters on business. He 
thought even bad Latin preferable to 
good in negotiations. 

These speeches raised Pitt's choler ; 
and with reason. He had vindicated 
the honour of his country ; and now 
was supporting it with a dignity it had 
never known since the days of Crom- 
well. He saw himself abandoned and 
ridiculed by his master's ministers ; but 
he was not a man to recoil before such 
adversaries. If he had assumed an 
unwarrantable tone, his situation miglit 
well justify it. He broke out with 
great asperity, and told them dictatori- 
all}', they should not alter an iota of 
the letter. Rhodomontade had been 
too favourite a figure witli Lord Gran- 
ville to leave him the dupe of it in 
another man. . . . He neither admired 
Pitt's exalted diction, nor exalted 
views. . . . 

The Duke of Bedford, whom the 
rest always summoned when they 
wanted to combat Pitt and did not dare, 
said, "he did not know why he was 
called to council, if he was not at lib- 



The Accession of George III. 



26' 



erty to debate; and since he was told 
they were not to be permitted to alter 
an iota, he would come thither no 
more," and retired. Some of the others 
were less stout. Lord Bute said little, 
but that he thought the King's honour 
was concerned in sticking to our own 
terms. . . . On the 25th, another coun- 
cil was held, to which, notwithstanding 
his declaration, the Duke of Bedford 
returned. . . . Pitt at this council was 
more temperate, and submitted to some 
small concessions. 

On the 7th of September, the new 
Qiieen landed at Harwich. . . . Her 
temper appeared to be lively and her 
understanding sensible and quick. 
Great good-nature, set off by much 
grace in her manner, I'ecommended all 
she said. Her person was small, and 
very lean, but well made. Her face 
pale and homely, her nose something 
flat, her mouth very large. Her hair 
was of a fine brown, and her counten- 
ance pleasing. 

When first she saw the palace she 
trembled. The Duchess of Hamilton 
smiled. The Qiieen said, "You may 
laugh ; you have been married twice ; 
but it is no joke to me." The King 
received her in the garden of St. 
James's; she would have kneeled, but 
he raised and embraced her, and led 
her to the Princess, where they and 
Lady Augusta dined together. Between 
nine and ten at night they went to 
chapel. The Duke of Cumberland 
gave her away, and after the ceremony 
they appeared for a few minutes in the 
drawing-room, and then went to sup- 
jDer. She played and sung, for music 
was her passion, but she loved other 
amusements too, and had been accus- 
tomed to them ; but, excepting her 
music, all the rest were retrenched, 
nor was she ever suffered to play at 
cards, which she loved. While she 
was dressing, she was told the King 



liked some particular manner of di'ess. 
She said, "Let him dress himself; I 
shall dress as I please." They told her 
he liked early hours ; she replied, she 
did not, and " qu' elle 7ie voiilait pas se 
coiicher avec les poules." A few weeks 
taught her how little power she had 
acquired with a Crown. The affection 
she conceived for the King softened the 
rigour of her captivity. Yet now and 
then a sigh stole out, and now and then 
she attempted, though in vain, to en- 
large her restraint. . . . 

It was not without reason that the 
nation took an alarm, when almost all 
who conducted our affairs were deter- 
mined to take none. Spain for some 
time had interposed officiously in behalf 
of France, which, said the Spaniards, 
was sufficiently humbled, and must not 
be ruined. It was known that they had 
furnished her with money ; and, as if 
they sought an open breach with us, 
they demanded for all Spain the same 
privilege as Biscay and two other prov- 
inces enjoyed, of fishing on the coasts 
of Newfoundland. This was peremp- 
torily refused ; and had Mr. Pitt's 
influence been equal to his spirit. Lord 
Bristol had been immediately recalled 
from Madrid. . . . The King of Spain 
was possessed with a notion that his 
lights were equal to his grandeur. He 
listened, or thought he listened, to no 
advice : but if anything is more fatal 
to a nation than a foolish indolent 
prince, it is a foolish one that is active 
and obstinate. . . . 

Mr. Pitt had fixed his resolution. It 
was by one bold stroke to assert the 
honour of his country, or to quit the 
rudder. He insisted that a fleet of 
twelve or fourteen men-of-war should 
be instantly sent to Cadiz ; and that 
Lord Bristol should be ordered to 
demand a sight of the treaty between 
Spain and France ; and if not accorded, 



264 The Accession of George III. 



to leave Madrid without delay. When 
Spain had given such indications of 
her partiality to France, nothing could 
be more justifiable than this measure. 
But Spain had not restrained herself 
within the bounds of favour. In the 
midst of the negotiation between us 
and France, to which Spain pretended 
to offer herself as guarantee, she had 
committed a most flagrant and unlieard- 
of instance of taking part, nay, of add- 
ing herself as a party to the grievances 
complained of. Bussy [The French 
envoy], tolerated here as a negotiator, 
and without even a character from his 
own court, presented to Mr. Pitt a 
cavalier note in the name of Spain, 
demanding restitution of some prizes 
we had made on Spain during the war, 
satisfaction for the violation of their 
territory by the navy of England, 
liberty of fishery on Newfoundland, 
and destruction of our settlements on 
the Spanish territory, in the bay of 
Honduras. A power in amity with us, 
and affecting to act as mediator, selects 
our enemy's agent to convey their com- 
plaints ! — what could surpass this in- 
sult ? — the patience of our ministers 
under such indignity — not of Mr. Pitt. 
He replied with the majesty of the 
Crown he ser\ed, — the vengeance of 
that Crown slept in other hands. 

His hands tied, the nation affronted, 
and duped by the partial breaking off 
of the treaty with France, no proper 
resentment permitted against Spain, 
Mr. Pitt found he could do no farther 
good. His character had been lost by 
acquiesence ; and nothing could rouse 
the nation, but his quitting the sphere 
of business, where he was so treacher- 
ously controlled. He had desired to 
enter his protest in the council books 
against the temporising advice of his 
colleagues. He and Lord Temple de- 
livered to the King their reasons and 
advice for a war with Spain ; and 



October 2nd Mr. Pitt took leave of the 
Council, thanking the ministers of the 
late King for the support they had 
given to the war ; and on the 5th he 
resigned the Seals. Lord Temple 
quitted on the 9th following. 

It is difficult to say which exulted 
most on this occasion, France, Spain, 
or Lord Bute, for Mr. Pitt was the 
common enemy of all three. . . . 

The nation was thunderstruck, 
alarmed, and indignant. The City of 
London proposed to address the King 
to know why Mr. Pitt was dismissed ; 
but it being replied, that the King 
would tell them he had not dismissed 
Mr. Pitt, but had wished him to continue 
in employment, the motion dropped. 
Some proposed a general mourning ; 
others, more reasonable, to thank Mr. 
Pitt for his services ; but this too was 
damped; for the Favourite's agents were 
not idle, and insinuated that Mr. Pitt 
had acted with mischievous views ; for 
they who were incapable of great views, 
were excellent in undermining. The 
King was advised to heap rewards on 
his late minister. The Princess pressed 
it eagerly. A peerage, a vast pension, 
the government of Canada (as a mark 
that it was not to be restored at the 
peace), were offered to him. He had 
the frailty to accept a peerage for his 
wife, and a pension of three thousand a 
year for three lives ! . . . 

The public, though staggered by the 
pension, did not abandon their idol. 
. . . On the 9th, the King and all the 
royal family dined in the city with the 
Lord Mayor. Thither, too, went Mr. 
Pitt and Lord Temple in a chariot 
together, — a step justly censured, and 
very nearly productive of fatal conse- 
quences. To tlieni all acclamations 
were addressed ; and the distinctions 
paid in the Guildhall to Mr. Pitt, to the 
total neglect of the King, bestowed all 
the honour of triumph on the former. 



, ^ . 






«*. 



Jsniaag tlie mber enl Coniequtindej osf dieWar^ mirlit reckon our actraar<Iizia^5ucceis'. 

t/i^Mfhot^ofJ'f^/^/i., a/id t^ t/i^limojuij&fliay^ -'^^ o'uv- my AMti^/L'd Aid ^'% 

«il^.5«:4'?^^&G#>V''^ /^iii^'.?/*'/^,^^'J°/,V^y/?'^/./?.(]St' /!^-^n. af.'K deJ. 
wz^A c)iu:/i^ /4yz^* !/&«&; j-t) l^/cti^i^ \ nz/^A ^^T) JE/i^ i i/ie. If2ir. 

H'e-^oc^oi/ /^ /Zy u/i4>n^/ie<-^4L (^im M^i/itiu/ /rf^im'^,Au//z/?ra/ our LyHot^; a.- 

lyii J8L^,^gi ^^'^^/^ 1^1^ /9ra' A i^w^cti^ i?H- ^t carried aJm'yr fv^tA jatt:.-. 

/^4^ lm£AM^tSyuri^.i/u'.'&ritoxLUz¥^il,-uJJojtASncce& 'cmdd^^'^atX.ded 
mtU'Eml Con{eqaen£es, or i^ cur CoHquefts /^«^«^^ ciw,C^iZ- S ^z,/ Obftacles to a 
Peace ?^.>%a:»<2-Obilaoles /^^??z''^r ^ Xard^^ r^/ot^/^iiy n-ili'F^ctY^fy retnmm . 

-^^d df^aur ^aie^cAiez/02UJ Vd i?/^iaud Z^^/vr C^/.^^>iz/df^,^/er^, n^ere do ^/ i^^'l^and of 
n^vitAemna dur NM-^ -^ , and t^ i/tf re^ikf i/t^iH^mvm- ru^s^ tA^ ^^edt^^m 

^ m-aJt^. die»-i duliruir ^ dur dn-n^^Iermd'of^^j: ida/z!.T/^. 'if'fr&icAe^Wttii-c.'t^^a^^ 

Sra?- .' C-f/fj^^ t:t- ^Sr i^i.^d IPe od /audi^, m^dmldddl- t/ie W'^'^'^^^^ daz^\^ 
ac. Q, m^/aUrui dd ^/ Evil C oixTequences ti-fwrt ii!d ? ff^^C d/d^" tA-S^dU/i- Ai.mf ic^id/t 
k^d uJuiridt^ 0^ , a^z^^ ^^ ki/!i- f/ifoUi/^L i/te Cli! ndt/i ijr^e/d jg^, id/urr^fy a/^d- 
^- ^ u*n^i/i. ^u-UxAz/fuxi^ ^07td? ^^ijr tA^d did />£ re ^ i.ytddrSS> /idJ-n- ^ tkt 
C T T ofid^ G>r/i.cij'd!iurnd a/^ Britmn, y^^w^^^ r^Siim if^^ /e^^-N^ duftot^ ud ? 
//^ ductJvBJi'fmdeAiBd^ ^ iai.rd .^Jky'| ^ r'diud ,A-d/.>d /^et^ior'D^iLin^ ^^M^ 
'-d/yb/tu-kir 2^rf^ ^@ /^- ,^^^!a /idJJ^n do lmi^/d^^nddd, d^!d'/%''^%_l^ /viM ^t- 
•iJdufM, ^ W^^^'^^^^ ^//d'dr- i/uw/. lid dd /m/^A J/uY^^ ^rejoice over tiiegoodCoiiie- 
qixtTxcts of OUT lio{ses^ a/id- di-e. edu. onei r<;du& 'l^r/d :^ iri/ry^o'M^^ ^ imTieiich.A-iym t/u 
im/2'jri' .gfi Gina/jjidi of ICeTrfoundlaiiJ. .' ^ 

H'iA/ dim/ /u^i' !fj/-^d ^ tAu: 'l/'dr/i7r>!^fdurIjois&sli.n:- Jte-d^d; '•'''ro//. / iudi ';§l*r<^^//" 
Coiniuells itM-re aaru ■'» /'f, //v^ '^^fa/l at oiiau?j^u/ adi'/^. i1 // Md/// dw iu/,w ^ 
dermd ^^rAtf 2 d/udtrf4ydd-^''^^dfdfjdj^^df 'SiOudboTX- j/i ^ iA/vdy// ^.-/irc^i/ d'd 

Su//>i'd, KiePcople of .EagLi.nd 



Tri.'.' 



The Accession of Georg-e III, 



26^ 



Little was wanting to turn the pageant 
into a tragedy. Riots ensued, and 
many persons were insulted. 



8. An Hieroglyphical, Enigmatical, 
and Paradoxical address, to the Laird 
of the Bute relative to the Loss ot New- 
foundland. (See opposite page!) 

Among the other evil Consequences of the 
War, I might reclcon our extraordinary Suc- 
cess. — Briton, No. VI. 

iSIay it please your Lairdship ! At a 
time when the Nation is again em- 
broiled in all the Horrors of Faction, 
and that the Demon of Discord has 
once more kindled his torch to light up 
the flames of civil Sedition, it can not 
but give the greatest Satisfaction to your 
Lairdship' s Friends in General that the 
Dawn of your ministerial Conduct has 
been attended with such happy effects, 
so likely to put a speedy End to the 
War. 

We proceed wholly upon the Maxim 
adopted by the Author of our Motto ; a 
Maxim which, (however paradoxical it 
may appear,) can [not.'' scarcely.'] be 
enough admired for its novelty, as well 
as for the forcible conviction it carries 
along with it : — New it surely must be 
allowed to be ; for who in the name of 
wonder, would have dream' d, (before 
3'our Lairdship' s Friend the Briton 
informed us so) that success could ever 
be attended with Evil Consequences, or 
that our Conquests were to be consid- 
ered but as Obstacles to a Peace.'' 
These Obstacles however your Laird- 
ship's Sagacity will effectually remove. 

We had hitherto foolishly imagin'd, 
that our numerous Acquisitions, the 



fruits of our late mischievous Minister's 
otficious Zeal for the public Service, 
were so many Means of weakening our 
Enemies, and that the reducing their 
Power was the surest Way to make 
them submit to our own Terms of Ac- 
commodation. — Wretched Mistake! 
Fatal Error ! Was it for this We so 
loudly applauded the minister who was 
daily accumulating so many Evil Con- 
sequences upon us.' Was it for this 
We hung upon his Chariot Wheels and 
bore him through the City with inces- 
sant Shouts and triumphant Acclama- 
tions .' For this did he receive Ad- 
dresses from all the Cities and Cor- 
porations of Great Britain, upon every 
new Accession of Misfortune he en- 
tailed upon us.' How much are we 
indebted to your Lairdship' s judicious 
Advocate, for dispelling the mists of 
Popular Prejudice by which we had 
been so long blinded, and how greatly 
will it redound to your glory that you 
have given us so much Reason to rejoice 
over the good Consequences of our 
Losses, and the evil ones resulting to 
our Enemies the French, from the 
important Conquest of Newfoundland ! 

Suffer not then, my Laird, the Ignis 
Fatuus of Glory to lead you astray, and 
your Lairdship will soon put an end to 
the War : for if our Losses are repeated, 
in Proportion as our Conquests were 
acquir'd, we can not fail of obtaining a 
Peace, even upon the equitable Terms 
which the two illustrious Branches of 
the House of Bourbon shall think fit to 
prescribe. 

Signed., The People of England. 

Price 6d. 



266 William Pitt and the American War 



GROUP XXVIII. 

WILLIAM PITT AND THE AMERICAN WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 



I. Extracts from Pitt's Speeches. 
(In Life of Pitt. London, iSio.) 

May 27, 1774. 
My Lords : ... If we take a tran- 
sient view of those motives which 
induced the ancestors of our fellow- 
subjects in America to leave their native 
country, to encounter the innumerable 
difficulties of the unexplored regions of 
the western world, our astonishment at 
the present conduct of their descendants 
will naturally subside. There was no 
corner of the world into which men of 
their free and enterprising spirit would 
not fly with alacrity, rather than submit 
to the slavish and tyrannical principles, 
which prevailed at that period in their 
native country. And shall we wonder, 
my Lords, if the descendants of such 
illustrious characters spurn, with con- 
tempt, the hand of unconstitutional 
power, that would snatch from thein 
such dear-bought privileges as they now 
contend for? Had the British Colonies 
been planted by any other kingdom 
than our own, the inhabitants would 
have carried with them the chains of 
slavery, and spirit of despotism ; but as 
they are, they ought to be remembered 
as great instances to instruct the world, 
what great exertions mankind ^vill nat- 
urally make, when they are left to the 
free exercise of their own powers. And, 
my Lords, notwithstanding my inten- 
tion to give my hearty negative to the 
question now before you [a bill for 
quartering soldiers in America], I can- 
not help condemming, in the severest 
manner, the late turbulent and unwar- 
rantable conduct of the Americans in 
some instances, particularl}' in the late 
riots of Boston. But, my Lords, the 
mode which has been pursued to bring 
them back to a sense of their duty to 



their parent state has been diametrically- 
opposite to the fundamental principles 
of sound policy. . . . By blocking up 
the harbour of Boston, you have in- 
volved the innocent trader in the same 
punishment with the guilty profligates- 
who destroyed your inerchandize ; and 
instead of making a well-concerted 
effort to secure the real offenders, you 
clap a military and naval extinguisher 
over their harbour. . . . 

My Lords, this country is little 
obliged to the framers and promoters 
of this tea-tax. The Americans had 
almost forgot, in their excess of grati- 
tude for the repeal of the stamp act, 
any interest but that of the mother 
country ; there seemed an emulation 
among the different pi'ovinces, who 
should be most dutiful and forward in 
their expressions of loyalty. . . . But 
the moment they perceived your inten- 
tion was renewed to tax thein, under a 
pretence of serving the East India Com- 
pany, their resentment got the ascend- 
ant of their moderation, and hurried 
them into actions contrary to law^, 
which, in their cooler hours, they would 
have thought on with horror ; for I 
sincerely believe, the destroying of the 
tea was the effect of despair. 

But my Lords, from the complexion 
of the whole of the proceedings, I think 
that administration has purposely irri- 
tated them into those violent acts, for 
which they now so severely smart ; 
purposely to be revenged on them for 
the victory they gained by the repeal of 
the stamp act. . . . For what other 
motive could induce them to dress tax- 
ation, that father of American sedition, 
in the robes of an East India Director, 
but to break in upon that mutual peace 
and harmony. . . . 



William Pitt and the American War 267 



My Lords, I am an old man, and 
would advise the noble Lords in office 
to adopt a more gentle mode of govern- 
ing America ; for the day is not far 
distant, when America may vie with 
these kingdoms, not only in arms, but 
in arts also. It is an established fact, 
that the principal towns in America are 
learned and polite, and understand the 
constitution of the empire as well as the 
noble Lords who are no^v in office ; 
and consequently they will have a 
watchful e^-e over their liberties, to 
prevent the least encroachment on their 
hereditary rights. . . . 

This, my Lords, though no new 
doctrine, has always been my received 
and unalterable opinion, and I will 
carry it to my grave, tliat this country 
had 110 right under heaven to tax 
America. It is contrary to all the prin- 
ciples of justice and civil policy. . . . 
Such proceedings will never meet their 
wished-for success ; and, instead of 
adding to their miseries, as the bill now 
before you most undoubtedly does, 
adopt some lenient measures, which 
may lure them to their duty ; proceed 
like a kind and affectionate parent over 
a child ■whom he tenderly loves; and, 
instead of those harsh and severe pro- 
ceedings pass an amnesty on all their 
youthful errors ; clasp them once more 
in your fond and affectionate arms ; and 
I will venture to affirm you will find 
them children worthy of their sire. . . . 
Nov. 39, 1774. 

I wish, my Lords, not to lose a day 
in this urgent, pressing crisis ; an hour 
now lost in allaying ferments in Amer- 
ica, may produce years of calamity : for 
my own part, I will not desert, for a 
moment, the conduct of this weighty 
business, from the first to the last ; un- 
less nailed to my bed by the extremity 
of sickness, I will give it unremitted 
attention ; I will knock at the door of 
this sleeping and confounded Ministry, 



and will rouse them to a sense of their 
important danger. . . . 

I contend not for indulgence, but 
justice to America ; and I shall ever 
contend, that the Americans justly owe 
obedience to us in a limited degree, . . . 
but let the line be skillfully drawn. . . . 
Let the sacredness of their property re- 
main inviolate ; let it be taxable only 
by their own consent, given in their 
provincial assemblies, else it will cease 
to be property. . . . 

Adopt, then, the grace, while you 
have the opportunity of reconcilement ; 
or at least prepare the way. — Allay the 
ferment prevailing in America, b}' re- 
moving the obnoxious hostile cause [the 
troops] — obnoxious and unserviceable ; 
for their merit can be only inaction : 
" Non dimicare et vincere," their vic- 
tor)' can never be by exertions. Their 
force would be most disproportionately 
exerted against a brave, generous, and 
united people, with arms in their hands, 
and courage in their hearts : — three 
millions of people, the genuine descend- 
ants of a valiant and pious ancestry, 
driven to those deserts [ .''J by the narrow 
maxims qf a superstitious tyranny. — 
And is the spirit of persecution never 
to be appeased ? Are the brave sons 
of those brave forefathers to inherit 
their sufferings, as they have inherited 
their virtues.'' Are they to sustain the 
affliction of the most oppressive and un- 
exampled severity, beyond the accounts 
of history, or description of poetry .' 
. . . I remember some years ago, when 
the repeal of the stamp act was in agi- 
tation, conversing in a friendly confi- 
dence with a person of undoubted re- 
spect and authenticity' [Franklin] . . . 
and he assured me : . . . That you 
might destroy their towns, and cut 
them off from the superfluities, perhaps 
the conveniences of life ; but that they 
were prepared to despise your power, 
and would not lament their loss, whiUt 



268 William Pitt and the American War 



they have — what, my Lords? — their 
xuoods and their liberty. . . . The 
spirit which now resists your taxation 
in America, is the same which formerly 
opposed loans, benevolences, and ship- 
money, in England : the same spirit 
which called all England on its legs^ 
and by the Bill of Rights vindicated 
the English constitution : the same 
spirit which established the great fun- 
damental, essential maxim of your lib- 
erties, that no stibjcct of England 
shall be taxed but by his o~uvn consent. 

This glorious spirit of Whiggism ani- 
mates three millions in America ; who 
prefer poverty with liberty, to gilded 
chains and sordid affluence; and who 
will die in defence of their rights as 
men, as freemen. . . . As an Ameri- 
can I would recognize to England her 
supreme right of regulating commerce 
and navigation : as an Englishman by 
birth and principle, I would recognize 
to the Americans their supreme unalien- 
able right in their property ; a right 
which they are justified in the defence 
of to the last extremity. To maintain 
this principle is the common cause of 
the Whigs on the other side of the 
Atlantic, and on this. " ' Tis liberty 
to liberty engaged," that they will de- 
fend themselves, their families, and 
their country. In this great cause they 
are immoveably allied : it is the alliance 
of God and nature — immutable, eternal 
— fixed as the firmament of heaven. . . . 

When your Lordships look at the 
papers transmitted us from America ; 
when you consider their decency, firm- 
ness, and wisdom, you cannot but 
respect their cause, and wish to make 
it your own. For myself, I must 
declare and avow, that in all my read- 
ing and observation — and it has been 
my favourite study — I have read Thu- 
cidydes, and have studied and admired 
the master-states of the world — that for 
solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, 



and wisdom of conclusion, under such 
a complication of difficult circum- 
stances, no nation, or body of men, 
can stand in preference to the general 
Congress at Philadelphia. I trust it is 
obvious to your Lordships, that all 
attempts to impose servitude upon such 
men, to establish despotism over such a 
mighty continental nation., must be vain, 
must be fatal. We shall be forced 
ultimately to retract; let us retract 
while we can, not when we must. I 
say we must necessarily undo these 
violent oppressive acts : thev insist be 
repealed — you will repeal them; I 
pledge myself for it, that you will in 
the end repeal them ; I stake my 
reputation on it : — / will conse?it to 
be taken for an idiot, if t/iey are not 
fnally repealed. . . . 

May 13, 1777. 
... If an end is not put to this 
war, there is an end to this country. I 
do not trust my judgment in my pres- 
ent state of health ; this is the judg- 
ment of my better days ; the result of 
forty years attention to America. They 
are rebels : but what are they rebels 
for ? Surely not for defending their 
unquestionable rights ! . . . America 
has carried you through former wars, 
and will now carry you to your death, 
if you don't take things in time. . . . 
You have been three yeais teaching 
them the art of war. They are apt 
scholars, and I will venture to tell your 
Lordships, that the American gentry 
will make officers enough fit to com- 
mand the troops of all the European 
powers. . . . You have said, la)' down 
your arms, and she has given you the 
Spartan answer, " Come take." 

2. Speech from the throne of George 
III., Nov. 18, 1777. (In Thackeray's 
Life of Pitt, Vol. II. p. 333.) 

It is a great satisfaction to me that I 
can have recourse to tjie wisdom and 



William Pitt and the American War 269 



support of 111}' parliament in this con- 
juncture, when the continuance of the 
rebellion in North America demands 
our most serious attention. The pow- 
ers you have entrusted me with, for the 
suppression of this revolt, have been 
faithfully exerted. . . . I am persuaded 
you will see the necessity of preparing 
for such further operations as the con- 
tingencies of the war, and the obsti- 
nacy of the rebels may render expedient. 
. . . And I still hope, that the deluded 
and unhappy Inultitude will return to 
their allegiance ; and that the remem- 
brance of what they once enjoyed, the 
regret for what they have lost, and the 
feelings of what they now suffer under 
the arbitrary tyranny of their leaders, 
will rekindle in their hearts a spirit of 
loyalty to their Sovereign, and of at- 
tachment to their mother-country ; and 
that they will enable me, with the con- 
currence and support of my Parliament, 
to accomplish what I shall consider as 
the greatest happiness of my life, and 
the greatest glory of my reign, the 
restoration of peace, order, and confi- 
dence to my American Colonies. 



3. Speech of Lord Chatham on the 
subject of an address in answer to the 
Speech from the Throne. 

I rise, my Lords, to declare my senti- 
ments on this most solemn and serious 
subject. ... I will not join in con- 
gratulation on misfortune and disgrace : 
I cannot concur in a blind and servile 
address, which approves, and endeavors 
to sanctify, the monstrous ineasures 
that have heaped disgrace and misfor- 
tune upon us — that have brought ruin 
to our doors. This, my Lords, is a 
perilous and tremendous moment ! It 
is no time for adulation. The smooth- 
ness of flattery cannot now avail — can- 
not save us in this rugged and awful 
crisis. It is now necessary to instruct 
the Throne in the language of truth. 



We must dispel the delusion and dark- 
ness that envelope it ; and display, in 
its full danger and true colors, the 
ruin that is brought to our doors. . . . 
But yesterday, and England might 
have stood against the luorld: nozo 
none so poor to do her reverence. I use 
the words of a poet ; but though it be 
poetry, it is no fiction. It is a shame- 
ful truth, that not only the power and 
strength of this country are wasting 
away and expiring ; but her well- 
earned glories, her true honor, and sub- 
stantial dignity, are sacrificed. France, 
my Lords, has insulted you ; she has 
encouraged and sustained Ainerica ; 
and whether America be wrong or 
right, the dignity of this country ought 
to spurn at the officious insult of French 
intei"ference. The ministers and am- 
bassadors of those who are called rebels 
and enemies are in Paris ; in Paris they 
transact the recipi'ocal interests of 
America and France. Can there be a 
more mortifying insult? Can even our 
ministers sustain a more humiliating 
disgrace.' . . . 

My Lords, this ruinous and ignomin- 
ious situation, vv^here we cannot act 
with success, nor suffer with honor, 
calls upon us to remonstrate in the 
strongest and loudest language of truth, 
to rescue the ear of Majesty from the 
delusions which surround it. The des- 
perate state of our arms abroad is in 
part known : no man thinks more 
highly of them than I do : I love and 
honor the English troops : I know their 
virtues and their valor : I know they 
can achieve anything except impossi- 
bilities ; and I know that the conquest 
of English America is an impossibility. 
You cannot", I venture to say, you 
CANNOT conquer America. Your 
armies last war effected everything that 
could be effected; and what was it? 
It cost a numerous army, under the 
command of a most able general 



270 William Pitt and the American War 



(Amherst), now a noble Lord in this 
house, a long and laborious campaign, 
to expel five thousand Frenchmen from 
French America. My Lords, yoit can- 
not conquer America. What is your 
present situation there? We do not 
know the worst ; but we know, that 
in three campaigns we have done noth- 
ing, and suffered nmch. Besides the 
sufferings, perhaps total loss, of the 
Northern force (Burgoyne's army), 
the best appointed army that ever took 
the field commanded by Sir William 
Howe, has retired from the American 
lines ; he ivas obliged to relinquish his 
attemjjt, and, with great delay and 
danger, to adopt a new and distant 
plan of operations. We shall soon 
know, and in any event have reason to 
lament, what may have happened since. 
As to conquest, therefoi-e, my Lords, I 
repeat, it is impossible. — You may 
swell every expence, and every effort, 
still more extravagantly ; pile and accu- 
mulate every assistance you can buy or 
borrow ; trafiic and barter with every 
little pitiful German Prince, that sells 
and sends his subjects to the shambles 
of a foreign Prince ; your efforts are 
forever vain and impotent — doubly so 
from this mercenary aid on which you 
rely ; for it irritates to an incurable 
resentment, the minds of your eneinies 
— to overrun them with the mercenary 
sons of rapine and plunder ; devoting 
them and their possessions to the rapac- 
ity of hireling cruelty ! If I v^^ere an 
American, as I am an Englishman, 
while a foreign troop was landed in my 
tountry, I never would lay down my 
arms — never— never — never. . . . 

But, my Lords, who is the man that, 
in addition to these disgraces and mis- 
chiefs of our army, has dared to au- 
thorize and associate to our arms the 
tomahawk and scalping-knife of the 
savage? To call into civilized alliance 
the wild and inhuman savage of the 



woods ; to delegate to the merciless 
Indian the defence of disputed rights, 
and to wage the horrors of his barbar- 
ous war against our bretliren ? My 
Lords, these enormities cry aloud for 
redress and punishment : unless thor- 
oughly done away, it will be a stain on 
the national character — it is a violation 
of the constitution — I believe it is 
against law. It is not the least of our 
national misfortunes, that the strength 
and character of our armies are thus 
impaired : infected with the mercenary 
spirit of robbery and rapine — familiar- 
ized to the horrid scenes of savage 
cruelty, it can no longer boast of the 
noble and generous principles which 
dignify a soldier; no longer sympathize 
with the dignity of the royal banner, 
nor feel the pride, pomp, and circum- 
stance of glorious war, "that make 
ambition virtue!" What makes am- 
bition virtue ? — the sense of honor. . . . 
In a just and necessary war, to main- 
tain the rights or honor of my country, 
I would strip the shirt from my back to 
support it. But in such a war as this, 
unjust in its principle, impracticable in 
its means, and ruinous in its conse- 
quences, I would not contribute a single 
effort, nor a single shilling. . . . 

Lord Suffolk {^defending the employ- 
ment of the Indians in the war and 
contending., that., besides its policy 
and 7ieccssity it was allowable also on 
frijiciple) : "it is perfectly justifiable 
to use all the means that God and 
Nature put into our hands.''' Pitt 
(^suddenly rising) : "I am astonished, 
shocked ! to hear such principles con- 
fessed — to hear them avowed in this 
House, or in this country : — principles 
equally unconstitutional, inhuman and 
unchristian ! My Lords, I did not in- 
tend to have encroached again upon 
your attention ; but I cannot repress 
my indignation — I feel myself impelled 
by every duty. My Lords, we are 




o 

tlO 



o 



William Pitt and the American War 271 



called upon as members of this house, 
as men, as Christian men, to protest 
against such notions standing near the 
throne, polluting the ear of Majesty. 
" That God and Nature put into our 
hands!" I know not what ideas that 
Lord may entertain of God and nature ; 
"but I know, that such abominable prin- 
ciples are equally abhorrent to religion 
and humanity. — What ! to attribute the 
sacred sanction of God and nature to the 
massacres of the Indian scalping knife 
— to the cannibal savage torturing, 
murdering, roasting and eating ; liter- 
ally, my Lords, eating the mangled 
victims of his barbarous battles. Such 
horrible notions shock every precept of 
religion, divine or natural, and every 
generous feeling of humanity. And, my 
Lords, they shock every sentiment of 
honor ; they shock me as a lover of 
honorable ■war, and a detester of mur- 
derous barbarity. . . . From the tapes- 
try that adorns these walls, the immortal 
.ancestor [Admiral Howard] of this 
noble Lord [Suffolk] frowns with in- 
dignation at the disgrace of his country. 
In vain he led your victorious fleets 
iigainst the boasted Armada of Spain ; 
in vain he defended and established the 
honor, the liberties, the religion, the 
Protestant relig'ion, of this country, 
against the arbitrary cruelties of Popery 
and the Inquisition, if these more than 
popish cruelties and inquisitorial prac- 
tices are let loose among us ; to turn 
forth into our settlements, among our 
ancient connexions, friends and rela- 
tions, the merciless cannibal, thirsting 
for the blood of man, woman and child ! 
to send forth the infidel savage — against 
\vhom ? against your Protestant breth- 
ren ; to lay waste their country, to 
desolate their dwellings, and extirpate 
their race and name, with these hor- 
rible hell-hounds of savage war ! — 
JieU-Jion7tds^ I say, of savage war ! 
Spain armed herself with blood-hounds 



to extirpate the wretched natives of 
America ; and we improve on the 
inhuman example even of Spanish 
cruelty ; we turn loose these savage 
hell-hounds against our brethren and 
countrymen in America, of the same 
language, laws, liberties and religion ; 
endeared to us by every tie that should 
sanctify humanity. . . . I againimplore 
these holy prelates of our religion, to 
do away with these iniquities from 
among us. Let them perform a lustra- 
tion ; let them purify this House and 
this country from this sin. My Lords, 
I am old and weak and at present 
unable to say more ; but my feelings 
and indignation were too strong to have 
said less. I could not have slept this 
night in my bed, nor reposed my head 
on my pillow, without giving this vent 
to m}' eternal abhorrence of such pre- 
posterous and enormous principles." 

(Pitts amendment was rejected by a 
large majority. ) 

Extract from Seward's Anecdotes. 
(Vol. II. p. 383. London, 1804.) 

Lord Chatham came into the House 
of Lords, leaning upon two friends, 
lapped up in flannel, pale and ema- 
ciated. Within his large wig little 
more was to be seen than his aquiline 
nose and his penetrating eye. He 
looked like a dying man ; yet never 
was seen a figure of more dignity : he 
appeared like a being of a superior 
species. He rose from his feet with 
slowness and difficulty, leaning on his 
crutches and supported under each arm 
by his two friends. He took one hand 
from his crutch and raised it, casting 
his eyes towards Heaven, and said, " I 
thank God that I have been enabled to 
come here this day — to perform my 
duty and to speak on a subject which 
has so deeply impressed my mind. I 
am old and infirm — have one foot, 
more than one foot in the grave — I am 



272 William Pitt and the American War 



risen from my bed, to stand up in the 
cause of my country — perhaps never 
again to speak in this house " — a proph- 
ecy too fatally fulfilled ! 

The purport of his speech is well- 
known. The reverence — the attention 
-^the stillness of the House was most 
affecting : if any one had dropped an 
handkerchief, the noise would have 
been heard. 

At first he spoke in a very low and 
feeble tone ; but as he grew warm, his 
voice rose, and was as harmonious as 
ever : oratorical and affecting, perhaps 
more than at any former period ; both 
from his own situation and froin the 
importance of the subject on which he 
spoke. He gave the whole history of 
the American War ; of all the measures 
to which he had objected ; and all the 
evils which he had prophecied in con- 
sequence of them ; adding at the end of 
each, " and so it proved ! " 

In one part of his speech he ridiculed 
the apprehension of an invasion, and 
then recalled the remembrance of for- 
mer invasions. " Of a Spanish inva- 
sion, of a French invasion, of a Dutch 
invasion, many noble Lords may have 
read in history ; and some Lords (look- 
ing keenly at one who sat near him) 



ma)', perhaps, remember a Scotch in- 
vasion." 

While the Duke of Richmond was 
speaking he looked at him with atten- 
tion and composure ; but when he rose 
up to answer, his strength failed him 
and he fell backwards. He was 
instantly supported by those who were 
near him, and eveiy one pressed round 
him with anxious solicitude. His 
youngest son, the Honorable James 
Pitt (since dead), was particularly 
anxious and clever in assisting his ven- 
erable father, though the youth was not 
more than 17 or iS years of age. 

Lord Chatham was carried to Mr. 
Sergent's house, in Downing-Street, 
where he was accommodated with 
every kind and friendly attention, both 
at this time and on a preceding day, 
when he had attended the House of 
Lords, soine weeks before. From 
thence he was carried home to Hayes, 
and put to bed. He never rose again 1 
Thei-efore his death may be properly 
said to have happened in the House of 
Lords, in the discharge of his great po- 
litical duty : a duty, which he came in 
a dying state, to perform ! 

Such was the glorious end of this- 
Great Man ! 



GROUP XXIX. 



GEORGE III. AND HIS HEIR APPARENT. 



I. Extract from the Memoirs of Vis- 
count Melbourne. (Edited by Mc- 
Cullagh Torrens. Vol. I. p. 156.) 

Lord Essex used to tell how George 
III, about to mount his horse for a 
morning ride, noticed that the heir 
apparent, whom he desired to accom- 
pany him and who stood uncovered by his 
side, wore a wig, and he asked sharply 
why he did so ; the Prince I'eplied 
"that he found himself subject to 
take cold, and that he had been ad- 



vised by his physician to take this pre- 
caution." His Majesty turned to the 
lord-in- waiting and said, "A lie ever 
ready when it's wanted." . . . 

When Regent he [George IV] once 
called on Lady Spencer to ask her to- 
do him a great service. He wished her 
to choose a person of attainments and 
accomplishments to be governess to the 
Princess Charlotte. Above all things, 
he desired that the lady should teach 
his daughter always to tell the truth.. 



George III. and his Heir Apparent 273 



Lady Spencer betiajed by the expres- 
sion of her features what was passing 
in her mind. On which his Royal 
Highness observed, " You know I 
don't speak the trutli, and my brothers 
don't, and I find it a great defect, from 
which I would have my daughter free. 
We have always been brought up badly, 
the Qiieen having taught us to equivo- 
cate ; and I want you to help me in the 
matter." 

Inciter of Major- General Gren- 
ville to Earl Cornivallis. (Cornwal- 
lis Correspondence. London, 1S59. 
Vol. L p. 34S.) 

Dec. 20, 17S7. 

We are totally guided by [the 

Prince of Wales], and thoroughly initi- 
ated into all the extravagancies and de- 
baucheries of this most virinoiis me- 
tropolis. Our visits to Windsor are less 
frequent, and I am afraid will at last be 
totally given up ... I flatter myself 
still . . . [that] we shall perceive before 
it is too late, that we are losing our- 
selves in the eyes of the world, and 
throwing away the finest game that ever 
man had presented to him. 

Extract from Mrs. Papendiek' s 
Journals. (London, 1SS7. Vol. L 
p. 256.) 

1 78 1. 

... At the end of this session, the 
Prince of Wales solicited that the sum 
stipulated for the i-epairs of Carlton 
House should be paid to him, and the 
answer was that it was ready and would 
be given to the commissioners, on prov- 
ing their accounts. This his Royal 
Highness would not listen to ; it was 
represented that the screen alone had 
cost more than the Crown had allowed 
for the whole, and he wished to have 
the disposal of any money he could lay 
his hands on. . . . Of these and many 
other extravagances, was the King 
aware, and as the Crown would not 
pay his debts, the Prince threw up his 



establishment, declared himself a bank- 
rupt, and all the appointments null and 
void. [His debts, a little later, 
amounted to more than 600,000/. — Ed.] 

General Gratztto Earl Cornwallis. 
(Cornwallis Correspondence. London, 

1859-) 

April 6, 17SS. 

... At the Irish Club we have been 
honoured with the presence of the 
Prince of Wales and Duke of York, 
who are reciprocally obliged to one 
another ; the Prince has taught the 
Duke to dri7ik in the most liberal and 
copious way, and the Duke in return 
has been equally successful in teaching 
his brother to lose his money at all 
sorts of plaj' — Quinze, Hazard, etc. 
. . . These play parties have chiefly 
taken place at a new Club, formed this 
winter by the Prince of Wales in oppo- 
sition to Brookes' s, because Tarleton 
and Jack Payne, proposed by his Royal 
Highness, v\'ere black-balled. The 
Club by way of distinction, as there 
are so many of them in St. James's 
Street, passes under the name of the 
Dover House. 

Letter of the Duke of Dorset to 
Air. Eden (Auckland Correspond- 
ence 1,393), Oct. 6, 17S6. 

... I never saw the King in such 
spirits, — they rise in proportion to the 
stocks, which are beyond the sanguine 
expectations of everybody. The Heir 
apparent is still at Brighton and drives 
the whole world away. 

JMr. Storer to j]Ir. Eden. 

Jan. iS, 178S. 

. . . The King walks twelve miles 
in his way from Windsor to London, 
which is more than the Prince of 
Wales can do a. V heure qu' il est. So 
there is but little chance for the X's. 
Adieu. 

Nov. 14, 17SS. 

Dear Eden : All sorts of news are 
drowned in the great event of the 



2 74 George III. and his Heir Apparent 



King's illness. . . . Every day seems 
to produce worse symptoms, both of 
his life and his reason ; and it seems 
among the physicians a general opinion, 
that if the King does not die, there is 
very little probability of his recovering 
his senses. It is reported, but how far 
that report is to be depended on I can 
not tell, that ministers will endeavour 
to appoint a Regency, the Prince, of 
course, to be Regent, but that he is to 
be saddled with a Council. . . . 

2. Extracts from the Diary of 
Madame d'Arblay. (London, 1S42, 
Vol. IV. p. 273.) 

Saturday, Oct. 25 — Nov. i. 

I had a sort of conference with his 
Majesty, or rather I was the object to 
■whom he spoke, with a manner so 
uncommon, that a high fever alone 
could account for it ; a rapidity, a 
hoarseness of voice, a volubility, an 
earnestness — a vehemence, rather — it 
startled me inexpressibly. . . . The 
Qiieen is evidently in great uneasiness. 
. ,' .'During the reading this morning, 
twice, at pathetic passages, my poor 
Qiieen shed tears. " How nervous I 
am ! " she cried ; "I am quite a fool ! 
Don' t you think so ? " " No, ma' am ! " 
was all that I dared answer. . . . ■ 

Nov. 5th. 

O dreadful day ! My very heart has 
so sickened in looking over my memo- 
randums, that I was forced to go to 
other employment. I will not, how- 
ever, omit its narration. ... 

O my dear friends, what a history ! 
The King at dinner, had broken forth 
into positive delirium, which long had 
been menacing all who saw him most 
closely ; and the Qiieen w^as so over- 
powered as to fall into violent hysterics. 
All the Princesses were in misery, and 
the Prince of Wales had burst into 
tears. No one knew what was to 
follow. . . . 



At length news was brought that Dr. 
Warren was arrived. I never felt so 
rejoiced ; I could have run out to wel- 
come him with rapture. . . . We now 
expected every moment Dr. Warren 
would bring her Majesty his opinion ; 
but he neither came nor sent. She 
sent for Sir George [Baker] — he would 
not speak alone. ... At length Lady 
Elizabeth learnt among the pages that 
Dr. Warren had quitted his post of 
watching. The poor Queen now, in a 
torrent of tears, prepared herself for 
seeing him. 

He came not. , 

All astonished and impatient. Lady 
Elizabeth was sent out on enquiries. 
She. returned, and said Dr. Warren 
was gone. "Run, stop him!" was 
the Queen's next order. . . . Dr. War- 
ren, with the other two physicians, had 
left the house too far to be recalled ; 
they were gone over to the Castle, to 
the Prince of Wales. 

I think a deeper blow I have never 
witnessed. Already to become but 
second, even for the King ! The tears 
were now wiped ; indignation arose, 
with pain. . . . 

Nov. 7. 

. . . While I was yet with my poor 
Royal Sufferer this morning the Prince 
of Wales came hastily into the room. 
He apologised for his intrusion, and 
then gave a very energetic history of 
the preceding night. It had been 
indeed most affectingly dreadful. The 
King had risen in the middle of the 
night, and would take no denial to 
walking into the next room . There he 
saw the lai'ge congress I have mentioned 
[of anxious watchers] ; amazed and in 
consternation, he demanded what they 
did there. . . . Sir George Baker . . . 
attempted only to speak, and the King 
penned him in a corner, told him he 
was a mere old woman — that he won- 
dered he had ever followed his advice. 



George III. and his Heir Apparent 



2/5 



for he knew nothing of his complaint, 
which was only nervous. . . . Mr. 
Fairly . . . came boldly up to him, 
and took him by the arm, and begged 
him to go to bed, and then drew him 
along, and said he must go. Then he 
said he would not, and cried " Who 
are you?" " I am Mr. Fairlv, sir," he 
answered, " and your Majesty- has been 
very good to me often, and now I am 
going to be very good to you, for you 
must come to bed, sir : it is necessary 
to your life." And then he Avas so 
surprised, that he let himself be drawn 
along just like a child ; and so they got 
him to bed. 

Letter of J. \V. Pay?ie to Richaj-d 
Srinsley Sheridan. (In Moore's 
Sheridan, p. 355.) 

. . . I find that the present distemper 
has been very palpable for some time 
past. . . . the two daj's (viz : yester- 
■day se'ennight and the Monday follow- 
ing) that he was five hours each on 
Tiorseback, he was in a confirmed 
frenzy. On the Monday at his return 
he burst out into tears to the Duke of 
York, and said, " He wished to God 
he might die, for he was going to be 
mad." . . . The Doctors told Pitt . . . 
that they were perfectly ready to declare 
now, for the furtherance of public bus- 
iness, that he is now insane. 

Letter of Lord Bulkeley to the 
Marquis of Buckingham. (In Buck- 
mgham Papers. London, 1S53, p. 444.) 

Nov. II, 17SS. 
. . . We have been at Windsor the 
last three mornings, and sorry am I to 
tell you that poor Rex's state seems 
worse than a thousand deaths ; for un- 
less God interposes by some miracle, 
there is every appearance of his living 
with the loss of his intellects. ... I 
saw the General, who was exceedingly 
guarded, as they all are who really love 



poor Rex. . . . The Qiieen sees nobody 
but Lady Constance, Lady Charlotte 
Finch, Miss Burney, and her two sons, 
who, I am afraid, do not announce the 
state of the King's health with that 
caution and delicacy which should be 
observed to the wife and the mother, 
and it is to them only that she looks 
up. . . . 

The stocks are already fallen 3 jjer 
cent, and the alarms of the people of 
London are very little flattering to the 
Prince. 



3. Extract from Lady Harcourt's 
Diar}-. (In Jesse, Memoirs of the 
Reign of George III.) 

17S3. 
. . . The unhapp}- patient upon 
whom this, the most terrible visitation 
of Heaven, has fallen, was no longer 
dealt with as a human being. His 
body was immediately enclosed in a 
machine, which left it no liberty of 
motion. He was sometimes chained to 
a staple. He was frequently beaten 
and starved, and, at the best, he was 
kept in subjection by menacing and 
violent language. The history of the 
King's illness showed that the most 
exalted station did not wholly exempt 
the sufferer from this stupid and in- 
human usage. The King's disorder 
manifested itsself principally in unceas- 
ing talk, but no disposition to violence 
was exhibited. Yet he was subjected 
constantly to the severe discipline of 
the straight waistcoat ; he was secluded 
from the Qiieen and his family ; he was 
denied the use of a knife and fork, of 
scissors, or any instrument with which 
he might inflict bodily injury. Such 
petty vexatious treatment could not fail 
to aggravate a disorder, the leading 
symptom of which was nervous irri- 
tability, caused by over application, 
extreme abstemiousness, and domestic 
anxiety. It would have been well if 



276 George III. and his Heir Apparent 



the errors of the physicians had been 
confined to ignorance. But tlieir negli- 
g.ence was still more reprehensible. 
While the poor maniac was deprived 
of those tender offices ■which his wife 
and daughters might have rendered, he 
was abandoned to the care of low mer- 
cenaries, and so little discrimination 
was observed in the choice of his at- 
tendants, that the charge of his person 
devolved chiefly on a German page 
named Ernst, who was utterly un- 
worthy to be trusted with the care of 
the humblest of his fellow creatures. 
This man, who had been raised by the 
patronage of His Majesty, repaid the 
kindness of his royal master with the 
most brutal ingratitude. He went so 
far as to strike the helpless King ; and 
on one occasion, when his Majesty 
wished to protract his exercise in the 
gardens at Kew, Ernst seized him in 
his arms, carried him into a chamber, 
and throwing him violently on a sofa, 
exclaimed in an insolent manner to the 
attendants, " There is your King for 
you." 

[Lady Harcourt was a Lady of the 
Bedchamber to the Qiieen, and gives 
the King himself as voucher for some 
of these details — not altogether a safe 
source of information. We know how- 
ever that the page Ernst had a violent 
temper; Mrs. Papendiek speaks of him 
as being in " one of his bad humours." 
That the physicians who were first 
called in used a restrictive policy, which 
Dr. Willis at once reversed, is also 
certain. Medical methods were still 
very barbarous. Lady Harcourt' s 
testimony can not be entirely thrown 
aside. It is to her that v/e owe certain 
other shocking details — as, for instance, 
the fact that at Brookes' s, the fashion- 
able club for card-playing, it was usual 
for the Prince's followers to say " I 
play the lunatic," meaning the King. 
— Ld.] 



Extract from Twiss' s Life of Lord 
Chancellor Eldon. (London, 1844. 
Vol. I. p. 230.) 

The King, during one of his illnesses, 
complained to Lord Eldon, who re- 
lated the story to Mr. Farrar, that a 
man in the employ of some of his 
physicians, had knocked him down. 
"When I got up again," added the 
King, "I said my foot had slipped, 
and ascribed my fall to that ; it would 
not do for me to admit that the King 
had been knocked down by any one." 

Mr. W. W. Grenville to the Mar- 
quis of Buckingham. 

Dec. 7, 178S. 

... I have just seen a man who saw 
a note of Willis's dated late last night, 
in which he says that he is confident 
the King would do very well. ... It 
is quite ridiculous to see how angiy the 
Opposition are at the report of the phy- 
sicians. . . . The behaviour of the two 
princes is such as to shock every man's 
feelings. What do you think of the 
Duke of York's having a meeting of 
the Opposition at his house on Thurs- 
day, before the House of Lords met, 
and then going down there to hear the 
examinations [of the physicians] read .'' 
After that, they closed the day by both 
going in the evening to Brooks's. The 
truth is, that the Duke is entirely in his 
brother's hands, and that the latter is 
taking inconceivable pains to keep him 
so. . . . There seems great reason to 
believe that the Prince of Wales is 
inclined to go to all the lengths to which 
that party are pushing him. . . . 

In the midst of all this confusion, and 
while his sons and brothers are strug- 
gling to gain entire possession of his 
authority, the King may recover his 
reason. What a scene will present 
itsself to him ! and how devoutly must 
he pray, if he is wise, to lose again all 
power of recollection or reflection. 



Geome III. and his Heir Apparent 277 



Dec. 31 . 

You will see in the Opposition papers 
that they are beginning to abuse the 
Qiieen in the most open and scandalous 
manner. . . . 

If we were together, I could tell you 
some particulars of the Prince of 
Wales's behaviour towards the King 
and her, within these few days, that 
would make your blood run cold ; but 
I dare not commit them to paper, be- 
cause of my informant. 

Lord Bulkeley to JMarqiiis of 
Buckingham. 

No date. 
The Princes go on in their usual style, 
both keeping open houses, and employ- 
ing every means in their power to gain 
proselytes. . . . The Duke of York 
never misses a night at Brookes' s, 
where the hawks pluck his feathers un- 
mercifully, and have reduced him to 
the vowels I. O. U. The Prince like- 
wise attends very often, and has taken 
kindly to play. 



4. Mrs. Papendiek's Journals. 

The King was allowed pens, ink and 
paper, and wrote do^vn, as a sort of 
journal, every occurrence that took 
place, and every conversation, as cor- 
rectly as could be. 

Twice only was the King shaved 
between November and some time in 
January. My father, though principal 
barber, the title of his 300/. a year 
place, was too nervous to undertake it. 
Mr. Papendiek, however, was ready. 
He begged the Qiieen to have Palmer, 
the razor-maker, down, that there might 
be no flaw or hitch in the instruments, 
and the razor well sharpened. This 
was done, and Mr. Papendiek succeeded 
in clearing the two cheeks at one sitting, 
which, with the King's talking in be- 
tween, was nearly a two hours' job. 
The Queen, out of sight of the King, 
sat patiently to see it done, which was 



achieved without one drop of blood. 
The condition of the Qiieen was pitiable 
in the extreme. The first days of her 
terrible grief she passed almost entirely 
with her hands and arms stretched 
across a table before her, with her 
head resting upon them, and she took 
nothing to eat or drink except once or 
twice a little barley water. . . . Mr. 
Papendiek told me afterwards that the 
silence and gloom within the walls of 
the Lodge was something terrible. . . . 

The conduct of the Prince of Wales 
was, during this season of affliction, 
very heartless. ... At first the Queen 
could not make up her mind to see him. 
. . . When he began to enter upon po- 
litical conversation, her Majesty said 
that the equerries and Miss Goldsworthy 
must be called to answer the Prince, 
who, after being most severe, and 
knocking his stick several times upon 
the floor, while condemning the whole 
of what had been done, bowed and re- 
tired without kissing the Queen's hand 
according to the usual custom. . . . 

His Majesty used to inquire who 
called, and on wishing to be told if 
Lord North had ever been, was 
answered in the affirmative. Then the 
King said, " He might have recollected 
me sooner. However, he, poor fellow, 
has lost his sight, and I my mind. Yet 
we meant well to the Americans ; just 
to punish them with a few bloody noses, 
and then to make bows for the mutual 
happiness of the two countries. But 
want of principle got into the army. 
. . . We lost America. Tell him not 
to call again ; I shall never see him." 



5 . Extracts from the Auckland Corre- 
spondence. 

Lord Sheffield to Afr. Eden. 

Dec. 12, 17S8. 
. . . Dr, Willis, who seems now to 
have the principal management of the 
King, is a clergyman, and keeps a 



278 George III. and his Heir Apparent 



mad-house in Lincolnshire. He is 
considered by some as not much better 
than a mountebanlv, and not far differ- 
ent from some of tliose that are con- 
fined in liis house. . . . 

Pitt is playing the game without 
temper or judgment ; and his declara- 
tion in Parliament the day before yes- 
terday, that the Prince of Wales had 
no better right or claim to the Regency 
than any other subject, gives as much 
offence and alarm as Fox's assertion, 
that he was of right entitled to it. 

1 7th Dec. 

. . . Pitt's mountebank speeches suit 
the nonsense of many, however they 
may be execrated and disliked by 
others. . . . His plan is to maintain 
the present household unalterable, and 
to prevent the creation of peers. 

The Archbishop of Canterbury to 
Mr. Eden. 

. . . Since Dr. Willis of Lincoln- 
shire, has been called in, our hope has 
been more firm and constant, and at 
this moment stands very high. He 
has had great experience in this malady 
for eight and twenty years, and gi'eat 
success. . . . The doctor says con- 
fidently that in such a case in common 
life, he should promise himself a per- 
fect cure in a very short time — a few 
weeks — that he does promise it himself 
in this case, though aware that it has 
difficulties in the way which common 
cases have not. . . . Will the new^ 
regent be soon named? I think yes. 
Will he change the Government di- 
rectly ? Will the country bear this ? 
Will the King's recovery be hazarded, 
should he in the commencement of it 
find great changes? These are very 
serious speculations on which I don't 
venture to give an opinion. It is an 
awful moment, my dear friend. May 
it please God to conduct us safely 
through it ! 



Lord Sheffield to Mr. Eden. 

Nov. 23, I7SS. 

. . . For obvious reasons it is the 
policy of those attached to Administra- 
tion to represent the King' s state better 
than it is. . . . There is a difference 
of opinion as to his health, and one 
part of the public believes his constitu- 
tion broken up, while another part 
flatters itsself that the illness is the' 
effect of fever. . . . Cabal flourishes. 
The Prince gains much credit by his 
conduct at Windsor. The poor King's- 
illness is not melancholy or mischiev- 
ous ; at times it is rather gay. Yester- 
day se'ennight he talked incessantly for 
sixteen hours, to divert him from which,, 
they endeavoured to turn him to writ- 
ing : at last he began to compose notes- 
on Don Qiiixote. He fancies London 
is drowned and orders his yacht to go 
there. He took Sir George Baker's 
wig, flung it in his face, threw him oa 
his back, and told him he might star- 
gaze. Sir George is rather afraid of 
him. In one of his soliloquies he said, 
"I hate nobody, why should anybody 
hate me?" recollecting a little he- 
added, " I beg pardon, I do hate the 
Marquis of Buckingham." The Queen 
has not seen the King since the first 
days of the disorder, except once,. 
which produced an affecting scene. 
He contrived to steal out of his room 
in search of her, supposing she and his- 
children were stolen from him. She 
lay in a near room. He got to her 
bed-side, drew the curtain, and ex- 
claimed, " She is there," seemingly 
satisfied. He was without difficulty 
conducted to his apartment. 

Sir John Eden to ]Mr. Eden. 
Dec. II, 17SS. 
... I this day heard from a stranger 
that symptoms of this disorder appeared 
in 1783; if so, I should imagine occa- 
sioned by the American War. . . . We 




PITT. 



George III. and his Heir Apparent 279 



shall soon be in a complete ferment. 
Mr. Fox yesterday advanced some doc- 
trine which Mr. Pitt construed little 
short of treason. This brought on 
acrimony from Fox, a rejoinder from 
Pitt, and a severe speech from Burke, 
who termed Pitt a competitor for the 
Regency. The House of Lords are 
this day on the same business, the report 
of the physicians. Many people seem 
to think the minister [Pitt] means to 
have a committee of Regency, himself 
the chief (^King' William the FourtJi) , 
but I am not of this opinion ; however 
he seems to have spoken so freely of 
the Prince of Wales as to indicate a 
design of retiring if the Prince becomes 
Regent. 

Captain Sidney Smithy H. JV., to 
Mr. Eden. 

Dec. 30, 17SS. 
. , . The "opposition" physicians 
about his Majesty (and however odd it 
may sound such there have been) say 
everything they can to invalidate the 
daily testimonies of the others, so 
between both, the public are strangely 
divided in doubts, hopes, and fears. . . . 
The poor Qiieen is, as may be supposed, 
worn to a skeleton. ... I shall . . . 
take my leave of this subject by satisfy- 
ing a query that must arise in your 
mind, viz. whether the Prince will take 
the Regency ; with restrictions it is 
supposed he will, lest the Qiieen should, 
as the Parliament, having established 
their right and' overset the injudicious 
claim made by his friends in favour of 
his right, might and would offer it to 
her Majesty, and she has no reason to 
be delicate with regard to his Royal 
Highness from his treatment of her. 

The Archbishop of Canterbury to 
Mr. Ede7i. 

Jan 1 6th, 17S9. 
. . . It is a strange subject for party 
to exist upon, and disgraceful to the 



country that it should be so ; but so it 
is, and many pronounce Warren a party 
man in his accounts of a deep dye, 
while Willis is supposed to delude 
himself by his ambition to recover the 
patient. 

Lord Sheffield to Mr. Eden. 
Jan 14, 17S9. 
. . . My last account of the King is 
that he had had but five hours' sleep in 
three nights and days, and that he has 
been extremely furious. His pulse was 
at I30 on Sunday night, when Pepys 
ordered a draft, which Willis would 
not give him. On Monday morning 
his pulse was at loS : in this situation 
Willis had ordered the carriage to take 
him out, because he promised him an 
airing the day before, and he never 
broke his promise ; however, Warren 
and Pepys thought Willis's promise of 
less consequence than the King's life, 
and kept him at home. 

jSIiss Sayer to Aladame Huber. 
Jan. 29, 17S9. 
. . . What you will not see [in the 
papers] is the strange supper of which 
I am going to tell you, and which Lady 
Mount Edgcumbe had from the Duchess 
of Gordon herself, who, being entirely 
for Mr. Pett, is vastly teased by the 
princes, whom she never fails to answer 
extremely well. A few days ago Mrs. 
Richard W^alpole gave a supper to the 
two princes, Mrs. Fitzherbert [the heir 
apparent's wife. — Ed.], Colonel Ful- 
larton . . . and a few others ; the 
Duchess of Gordon the only Pittite. 
The Prince says : " What a fine fellow 
my brother York is ! he never forsakes 
me. The other day, when we went to 
look for the King's money, jewels, etc., 
at Kew, as we opened the drawers, my 
mother looked very uneasy, and grew 
angry. Says York to her, "Madam, 
I believe you are as much deranged as 



28o Georore III. and his Heir Apparent 



the King." . . . The Duchess of Gor- 
don (for which you will like her though 
a Scotchwoman) declared if they began 
to abuse the Qiieen she would leave the 
room. 

Extract from Lady Harcourf s 
Diary. (Massey's England, Vol. III. 
p. 3S9.) 

Jack Payne, the Prince's secretary 
and confidential man, one day uttered 
some ribaldry about the Qiieen in the 
presence of the Duchess of Gordon : 
"You little, insignificant, good-for-noth- 
ing, upstart, pert, chattering puppy," 
said her Grace, " how dare you name 
your royal master's royal mother in 
that style?" 

Mr. Huber to Mr. Eden. 

Feb. 3rd, 1789. 
. . . The resolutions of the Com- 
mons of Wednesday the 38th are : 
" That a committee be appointed to 
communicate to H. R. H. the Prince 
of Wales the resolutions which the 
Houses of Lords and Commons have 
agreed to for providing the means of 
supplying the defect in the personal 
exercise of the royal authority, under 
such regulations as the present circum- 
stances may require. ..." The Prince 
is highly offended at all these restric- 
tions si7te qua non. 



6. Diary of Madame d'Arblay. 

Kevv Palace, Feb. 3. 

What an adventure had I this morn- 
ing ! one that has occasioned me the 
severest personal terror I ever experi- 
enced in my life. . . . 

I strolled into the gardens. I had 
proceeded in my quick way, nearly half 
the round, when I suddenly perceived, 
through some trees, two or three fig- 
ures. Relying on the instructions of 
Dr. John [Willis], I concluded them 
to be workmen and gardeners ; yet 



tried to look sharp, and in so doing, as 
. they were less shaded, I thought It was 
the person of his Majesty. 

Alarmed past all possible expression, 
I waited not to know more, but turning 
back, ran off with all my might. But 
what was my terror to hear myself pur- 
sued ! — to hear the voice of the King 
himself loudly and hoarsely calling after 
me, " Miss Burney ! Miss Burney ! " 

I protest I was ready to die. I knew 
not in what state he might be at the 
time ; I only knew the orders to keep 
out of his way were universal. . . . 
The steps still pursued me, and still 
the poor hoarse and altered voice rang 
in my ears : — more and more footsteps 
resounded frightfully behind me, — the 
attendants all running, to catch their 
eager master, and the voices of the two 
Dr. Willises loudly exhorting him not 
to heat himself so unmercifully. 

Heavens, how I ran ! I do not think 
I should have felt the hot lava from 
Vesuvius — at least not the hot cinders — 
had I so run during its eruption. My 
feet were not sensible that they even 
touched the ground. 

Soon after, I heard other voices, 
shriller, though less nervous, call out 
"Stop! stop! stop!" . . . I fairly be- 
lieve no one of the whole party could 
have overtaken me, if these words, 
from one of the attendants had not 
reached me, " Dr. Willis begs you to 
stop!" 

" I cannot ! I cannot ! " I answered, 
still flying on, when he called out " You 
must, ma'am ; it hurts the King to run." 

Then, indeed, I stopped — in a state 
of fear really amounting to agony. I 
turned round, I saw^ the two Doctors 
had got the King between them, and 
three attendants of Dr. Willis's were 
hovering about. . . . 

When they were within a few yards 
of me, the King called out " Why did 



you run away 



:}■■ 



George III. and his Heir Apparent 281 



Shocked at a question impossible to 
answer, yet a little assured by the mild 
tone of his voice, I instantly forced my- 
self forward, to meet him, though the 
internal sensation which satisfied me 
this was a step the most proper, to ap- 
pease his suspicions and displeasure, 
was so violently combated by the tremor 
of mj' nerves, that I fairly think I may 
reckon it the greatest effort of personal 
courage I have ever made. 

The effort answered ; I looked up, 
and met all his wonted benignity of 
countenance, though something still of 
wildness in his eyes. Think, however, 
of my surprise, to feel him put both his 
hands round my two shoulders, and 
then kiss my cheek ! 

I wonder I did not really sink, so 
exquisite was my affright when I saw 
him spread out his arms ! Involuntar- 
ily, I concluded he meant to crush me 
[but enough of Miss Burney's exagger- 
ated emotions. — Ed.] 

The A.rchbisJiop of Canterbiiry 
to Mr. Eden. 

Feb. 13, 17S9. 

... I saw Mr. Pitt while I was out ; 
he was just come from Kew. and 
brought from thence everything that 
can encourage hope [of the King's re- 
covery]. Few opposition people were 
at the House, and those few languid, 
like men with whom hope deferred has 
made the heartsick. Sheridan and Co. 
may at all events urge to get possession 
for the sake of rank, let the possession 
be ever so short ; but it is too shocking 
to suppose the Prince will submit to 
this. 

Feb. 30. 

. . . The Regency Bill was yester- 
day put off, and the House adjourned 
till Tuesday, it being the opinion of all 
lawyers that in the King's present state 
the great seal could not be put to a bill 
to transfer the regal powers. 



Madame Huber to Mrs. Eden. 
Feb. 31. 

. . . Even Dr. Warren said at Kew 
the other day, that the amendment was 
great : he [the King] has written sev- 
eral letters to London, an<:l has settled 
some accounts with perfect recollection 
and coolness, and is constantly serene, 
cheerful and composed. Mr. Burke is 
almost mad, and will be quite so, no 
doubt, if the King recovers, though he 
has already renounced his intention of 
disputing that point, whenever it is as- 
serted. " They may (says he) bring 
back a King subdued and quieted by 
coercion." Being called to order, he 
complained of interruption. Mr. Pitt 
answered him most completely with 
such cold contempt, informing him that 
he never wished to do away with the 
impression his speeches made on the 
house. After this great violence in the 
House of Commons, Mr. Burke found 
wrote with chalk the next morning, 
" Very irritable in the evening, no sleep 
all night, and very unquiet this morn- 
ing." The Prince, being very drunk 
the other night, promised a regiment 
to Captain Macdonald, who has not the 
smallest pretentions to one ; but he 
keeps him to his promise. A person 
who sazv the King says, though thin, 
he is not so thin as he has been, looks 
fresh and healthy, and much handsomer 
from not being so weatherbeaten. 
Somebody, a few days ago, attempted 
to talk politics to him, but he said, 
"None yet; my head is not strong 
enough for that subject." 

All the ladies may burn their Regency 
caps, of \vhich, no doubt, you have an 
account. . . . The cheapest . . . costs 
seven guineas. . . . 

Some better news of our excellent 
King; there seems now to be no doubt 
of his perfect recovery. ... I would 
give a great deal to be witness of the 
joy in England on this happy event. 



282 George III. and his Heir Apparent 



The Qiieen surely will think there can 
never be enough clone for Dr. Willis, 
and I hope he will experience the grat- 
itude of a generous nation in its most 
powerful esteem. 

Lord Ha^vkesbury to Earl 
Connuallis. 

Jan. 6, 1789. 
. . . The personal exercise of the 
Royal Authority is at an end. To 
supply this the Prince is to be appointed 
Regent, under such restrictions as do 
not allow him to do anything which 
the King will not be able to undo, if 
he should ever be able to resume his 
government ; and the Qiieen is to have 
the care of the King's person and the 
management of his household. These 
questions we are warmly to discuss in 
the two Houses in the course of the 
next ten days. The Qiieen supports 
the King' s Ministers and servants ; and 
the Prince and the Duke of York cleave 
to Opposition ; and as soon as the 
Regency is formed, we shall certainly 
be all dismissed, and the system of the 
Government will be changed. 

Lord Sydney to Earl Cormvallis. 
Feb. 21, 17S9. 
. . . The Chancellor was yesterday 
with H. M., and for the first time 
talked to him upon business, and 
opened to him, in part, the measures 
which had been taken during his con- 
finement. I understand that H. M. 
was by no means the worse for this 
conversation. Dr. Willis, who attends 
him, says that, were he a private man, 
he should advise his following now his 
his usual occupation. . . . But, God 
knows, H. M. will have a severe trial 
when he is informed of all that has 
passed during the unhappy interval. 
Every possible care will no doubt be 
taken to prepare him. You will hear 
from other hands, probably, that the 



P. of W. has got complete possession 
of the D. of Y., and they had medi- 
tated such changes in the state and in 
the army as would have grieved him 
exceedingly. No scruple has been 
made of declaring that a general svvoop' 
of all places would be made, if the 
Regency were to last only a day. . . . 
Our own domestic scene has been an- 
interesting one. We have seen no 
times when it has been so necessary to 
separate parties in private company. 
The acrimony is beyond anything you 
can conceive. The ladies are as usual 
at the head of all animosity, and are 
distinguished by caps, ribands, and 
other such ensigns of party. They 
have driven old Qiieensbury out of 
England by calling him a Rat for 
deserting his master to hobble after a 
young Prince. ... I will not dwell 
upon this filthy subject even to state 
the filthiest conduct of North, who is 
led down to the House to act under 
Sheridan to joke upon the King's mis- 
fortunes. Thank God, the country in 
all parts and both houses of Parliament 
have nobly stood by the King. More 
affection and concern could not have 
been shown, and H. M. will have the 
satisfaction of finding how much he 
is personally beloved. Mr. Pitt has 
conducted himself with the greatest 
judgment and ability — Fox has been 
dangerously ill. 



7. Extracts from Mrs. Harcourt's 
Diary. (In Fitzgerald, Life of George 
IV. London, 18S1, Vol. I. p. 177.) 

Feb 22. 
Lady C. Finch said the King showed 
the greatest affection to the Qiieen. It 
was the attention of a lover. He 
seemed to delight in making her pres- 
ents — kissed her hand and showed 
every mark of tenderness, I was just 
with Lady C. when Genl. H. came to 



George III. and his Heir Apparent 283 



fetch me to Mr. Smelt's house sa3'ing 
the King was waiting to see me. I 
flew up stairs where I found the King 
and before I could speak he caught me 
in his arms and kissed me, which I 
own I did him on both sides of his face, 
telling him how happy I was and how 
I thanked God for this blessing of see- 
ing him well. . . . He looked very 
thin but was in excellent spirits, mak- 
ing his usual jokes and looked full of 
kindness and benevolence. Genl. H. 
removed from the K's mind a preju- 
dice as to the Queen's leaving him at 
Windsor before he was removed to 
Kew by fully explaining the plan hav- 
ing been so arranged by the physician 
and the King declared himself highly 
pleased and satisfied. The King and 
Qiieen afterwards came together to see 
me. She was di'eadfully reduced and 
shewed me her stays, which would 
wrap twice over. . . . 

J/r. Storer to j\Ir. Edeii. 

Apr. 31, 17S9. 
. . . We have something new for the 
day, and that is, a ball given by the 
club of Brooke's, on account of his 
Majesty's recovery. The tickets are at 
three guineas and a half each. . . . The 
club of White's has already given a 
ball ; and, as the ladies in opposition 
would not honour the Pantheon with 
their appearance, so (it is said) the 
ladies who support Government will 
not deign to attend to-night the ball at 
the Opera-house. [The Prince of Wales 
bought tickets for this ball, but after- 



wards offered them at public sale. — 
Ed.] 

S. Letter of Miss Burney (Madame 
d'Arblay) to her Father. 

His Majesty is in delightful health 
and much improved spirits. All agree 
he never looked better. The loyalty of 
this place [Weymouth] is excessive; 
they have dressed out every street with 
labels of "God save the King;" all 
the shops have it over their doors ; all 
the children wear it in their caps, all 
the labourers in their hats, and all the 
sailors in their voices^ for they never 
approach the house without shouting it 
aloud, nor see the King, or his shadow, 
without beginning to huzza, and going 
on to three cheers. 

The bathing machines make it their 
motto over all their windows; and 
those bathers that belong to the Royal 
dippers wear it in bandeaux on their 
bonnets, to go into the sea ; and have 
it again in large letters round their 
\vaists, to encounter the waves. Flan- 
nel dresses tucked up, and no shoes nor 
stockings, with bandeaux and girdles, 
have a most singular appearance, and 
when first I surveyed these loyal nymphs 
it was with some difficulty I kept my 
features in order. 

Nor is this all. Think but of the 
surprise of his Majesty, when, the first 
time of his bathing, he had no sooner 
popped his Royal head under water 
than a band of music, concealed in a 
neighbouring machine, struck up " God 
save Great George our King." 



284 



The Death of Nelson 



GROUP XXX. 



THE DEATH OF NELSON. 



1. Letter of Nelson to Alexander 
Davison. (Quoted in Barrow's Auto- 
biography. London, 1847, p. 279.) 

Victory, 24tli July, 1805. 
I am as miserable as you can con- 
ceive. But for General Brereton's d — d 
infoi-mation [that the French fleet had 
gone to the West Indies. — Ed.], Nelson 
would have been, living or dead, the 
greatest man in his profession that Eng- 
land ever saw. Now, alas ! I am 
nothing — perhaps, shall incur censure 
for misfortunes which may happen and 
have happened. When I follow my 
own head I am, in general, much more 
correct in my judgment than following 
the opinions of others. I resisted the 
opinion of General Brereton' s informa- 
tion — it would have been the height of 
presumption to have carried my belief 
further. 

2. Extracts from Barrow. 

In the autumn of 1805 Lord Nelson 
arrived in England, and, being much 
out of health, retired to a small place 
he had at Merton, where he remained 
in quiet in the midst of a pretty garden 
and in the society of his sister and Lady 
Hamilton. But the enjoyment he 
otherwise would have had is said to 
have been constantly interrupted by 
conjectures of what the enemy's fleet 
consisted, what he was projecting, and 
what was the force and disposition of 
his own fleet to meet it. While he was 
thus tormenting himself in matters of 
this kind, and in calling to mind the 
hope he had expressed to Admiral 
Collingwood, of rejoining him in the 
month of October, Captain Blackwood 
arrived with dispatches, announcing 
that the combined fleets of France and 
Spain had got into Cadiz. This intel- 
ligence admitted of no hesitation or 



delay — Nelson was himself again. He 
set off immediately for the Admiralty ; 
told Lord Barham he was on his 'wa.y 
to rejoin his fleet the moment the 
"Victory" was ready at Spithead, 
where a squadron was prepared as a 
reinforcement ; and in three days he 
was again in town oil his way to Ports- 
mouth. 

He had been with me at the Admir- 
alty in the morning, anxiously inquir- 
ing and expressing his hopes about a 
code of signals just then improved and 
enlarged. I assured him they were all 
but ready ; that he should not be dis- 
appointed, and that I would take care 
they should be at Portsmouth the fol- 
lowing morning. On his way, in the 
evening, he looked in upon me at the 
Admiralty, where I was stopping to see 
them off. I pledged myself not to 
leave the office till a messenger was 
dispatched with the signals, should the 
post have departed, and that he might 
rely on their being at Portsmouth the 
following morning. On this he shook 
hands with me ; I wished him all hap- 
piness and success, which I was sure he 
would command as he had always 
done ; and he departed apparently more 
than usually cheerful. . . . 



3. Extracts from Nelson's Diary and 
Letters. (Qiioted from Barrow.) 

13 Sept. 

At half-past ten drove from dear, 
dear Merton, where I left all which I 
hold dear in this world, to go to serve 
my king and country. May the great 
God whom I adore enable me to fulfil 
the expectations of my country ; and if 
it is His good pleasure that I should 
return, my thanks will never cease 
being offered up to the throne of His 
mercy. If it is His good providence to 




NELSON. 1799 A. D. 



The Death of Nelson 



285 



cut short my days upon earth, I bow 
with the greatest submission, relying 
that he will protect those so dear to me 
that 1 may leave behind. His will be 
done. Amen. Amen. 

Oct. I. 

(Letter.) I believe my arrival was 
most welcome, not only to the com- 
mander of the fleet, but also to every 
individual in it : and when I came to 
explain to them the Nelson touchy it 
was like an electric shock : some shed 
tears — all approved. " It was new — 
it was singular — it was simple;" and 
from admirals downwards it was re- 
peated. " It must succeed if ever they 
will allow us to get at them. You 
are, my Lord, surrounded by friends 
whom you inspire with confidence." 

Oct. 2 1 St. 

(Diary.) May the great God, whom 
I worship, grant to my country, and 
for the benefit of Europe in general, a 
great and glorious victory ; and may 
no misconduct in any one tarnish it ; 
and may humanity after victory be the 
predominant feature in the British fleet. 
For myself, individually, I commit my 
life to Him who made me, and may 
his blessing light upon my endeavours 
for serving my country faithfully. To 
Him I resign myself, and the just cause 
which is entrusted to me to defend. 

Barroxv. 

Never can I forget the shock I re- 
ceived, on opening the Board-room 
door, the morning after the arrival of 
the dispatches, when Marsden called 
out — " Glorious news ! The most glori- 
ous victory our brave navy ever achieved 
— but Nelson is dead ! " The vivid 
recollection of my interview with this 
incomparable man, and the idea that I 
was probably the last person he had 
taken leave of in London, left an im- 
pression of gloom on my mind that 
required some time to remove. 



4. Account of W. Beatty, the Sur- 
geon of the " Victory." 

. . . Captain Blackwood, of the 
E/iryaliis, remained on board the 
Victory till a few minutes before the 
Enemy began to fire upon her. He 
represented to his Lordship that his 
Flagship would be singled out and 
much pressed by the Enemy ; and sug- 
gested the propriety thei'efore of per- 
mitting one or two Ships of his Line 
to go ahead of the I'lciorv, and lead 
her into action, which might be the 
means of drawing in some measure the 
Enemy's attention from her. 

To this Lord Nelson assented and at 
half past nine o'clock he ordered the 
Temeraire and LeviatJiaii by signal 
(the former of which ships, being close 
to the Victory^ was hailed by his Lord- 
ship) to go ahead for that purpose; but 
from the light breeze that prevailed 
the}' were unable, notwithstanding their 
utmost efforts, to attain their intended 
stations. . . . 

About half an hour before the Enemy 
opened their fire, the memorable tele- 
graphic signal was made, that " Eng- 
land EXPECTS EVERY MAN AVILL DO 

HIS DUTY," which was spread and 
received throughout the Fleet with en- 
thusiasm. It is impossible adequately 
to describe by any language the lively 
emotions excited in the crew of the 
Victory when this propitious coinmu- 
nication was made known to them : con- 
fidence and resolution were strongly 
pourtrayed in the countenance of all ; 
and the sentiment generally expressed 
to each other was, that they would 
prove to their Country that day, how 
well British Seamen could "do their 
duty" when led to battle by their 
revered Admiral. . . . 

At fifty minutes past eleven, the 
Enemy opened their fire on the Com- 
mander in Chief. They shewed great 
coolness in the commencement of the 



286 



The Death of Nelson 



Battle ; for as the Victory approached 
their Line, tlieir sliips lying immediately 
ahead of her and across her bows fired 
only one gun at a time, to ascertain 
whether she was yet within their range. 
This was frequently repeated by eight 
or nine of their ships, till at length a 
shot passed through the Victory' s main 
top-gallant sail : the hole in which 
being discovered by the Enemy, they 
immediately opened their broadsides, 
supporting an awful and tremendous 
fire. 

Lord Nelson and Captain Hardy 
walked the quarter deck in conversation 
for some time after this, while the 
Enemy kept up an incessant raking 
fire. 

A double-headed shot struck one of 
the parties of Marines drawn up on the 
poop, and killed eight of them ; when 
his Lordship, perceiving this, ordered 
Captain Adair to disperse his men 
round the ship, that they might not suf- 
fer so much from being together. 

In a few minutes afterwards a shot 
struck the fore brace bits on the quar- 
ter deck, and passed between Lord 
Nelson and Captain Hardy ; a splinter 
from the bits bruising Captain Hard3''s 
foot, and tearing the buckle from his 
shoe. They both instantly stopped ; 
and were observed by the Officers on 
deck to survey each other with inquir- 
ing looks, each supposing the other to 
be wounded. His Lordshipthen smiled, 
and said : " This is too warm ^vorl•;, 
Hardy, to last long;" and declared 
that "through all the Battles he had 
been in, he had never witnessed more 
cool courage than was displayed by the 
Victory's crew on this occasion." 

The Victory by this time, having 
approached close to the Enemy's Van, 
had suffered very severely without fir- 
ing a single gun : she had lost about 
twenty men killed, and had about 
thirty wounded. Her mizzen topmast. 



and all her studding sails and their 
booms, on both sides were shot away ; 
the Enemy's fire being chiefly directed 
at her rigging, with a view to disable 
her before she could close with them. 

At four minutes past twelve o'clock, 
she opened her fire, from both sides of 
her decks, upon the Enemy ; when 
Captain Hardy represented to his Lord- 
ship, that " it appeared impracticable 
to pass through the Enemy's Line with- 
out going on board some one of their 
ships." 

Lord Nelson answered, " I cannot 
help it : it does not signify which we 
run on board of ; go on board which 
you please; take your choice." 

At twenty minutes past twelve, the 
tiller ropes being shot away : Mr. At- 
kinson, the Master, was ordered below 
to get the helm put to port ; which be- 
ing done, the Victory was soon run on 
board the Redoubtable of seventy four 
guns. 

On coming alongside and nearly on 
board of her, that ship fired her broad- 
side into the Victory^ and immediately 
let down her lower deck ports ; which, 
as has been since learnt, was done to 
prevent her from being boarded through 
them by the \ 'ictory' s crew. She never 
fired a great gun after this single broad- 
side. 

A ie\y minutes after this, the Tem- 
eraire fell likewise on board of the 
Redoubtable^ on the side opposite to 
the Victory; having also an Enemy's 
ship, said to be La FougHeiise, on 
board of her on her other side : so that 
the extraordinary and unprecedented 
circumstance occurred here, of four 
Ships of the Line being on board of 
each other in the heat .of battle ; form- 
ing as compact a tier as if they had 
been moored together, their heads lying 
all the saine way. The Tenieraire, as 
was just before mentioned, was between 
the Redoubtable and La Fousriieuse. 




^TT^^m 



o ^ 



The Death of Nelson 



287 



The Redoubtable commewceA a heavy 
■fire of musketry from the tops, which 
was continued for a considerable time 
with destructive effect to the Victory's 
crew : her great guns however being 
silent, it was supposed at different 
times that she had surrendered ; and in 
consequence of this opinion, the Vic- 
tory twice ceased firing upon her by 
Orders transmitted from the quarter 
■deck. 

At this period, scarcely a person in 
the Victory escaped unhurt who was 
exposed to the Enemy's musketr)-; but 
there were frequent huzzas and cheers 
heard from between the decks, in token 
of the surrender of different of the 
Enemy's ships. An incessant fire was 
kept up from both sides of the \'ictorv '■ 
her larboard guns played upon the 
Santissima Trinidada and the Buceu- 
taiir; and the starboard guns of the 
middle and lower decks were depressed 
and fired with a diminished charge of 
powder, and three shot each, into the 
Redoubtable. This mode of firing was 
adopted by Lieutenants Williams, King, 
Yule, and Brown, to obviate the danger 
of the Terneraire' s suffering from the 
Victory' s shot passing through the Re- 
doubtable ; which must have been the 
case if the usual quantity of powder, 
and the common elevation, had been 
given to the guns. 

A circumstance occurred in this sit- 
uation which showed in a most striking 
manner the cool intrepidity of the Offi- 
cers and men stationed on the lower 
deck of the Victory. When the guns 
on this deck were rvm out, their 
muzzles came into contact with the 
Redoubtable' s side ; and consequently 
at every discharge there was reason to 
fear that the enemy would take fire, and 
both the Victory and the Terneraire 
be involved in her flames. Here then 
was seen the astonishing spectacle of 
the Fireman of each gun standing ready 



with a bucket full of water, which as 
soon as his gun was discharged he 
dashed into the Enemy through the 
holes made in her side by the shot. 

It was from this ship (the Redoubt- 
able') that Lord Nelson received his 
mortal wound. About fifteen minutes 
past one o'clock, which was in the heat 
of the engagement, he was walking the 
middle of the quarter deck with Captain 
Hardy, and in the act of turning near 
the hatchway with his face towards the 
stern of the Victory., when the fatal 
ball was fired from the Enemy's mizzen 
top ; which, from the situation of the 
two ships (lying on board of each 
other), was brought just abaft, and 
rather below, the J'ictory's main yard, 
and of course not more than fifteen 
yards distant from that part of the deck 
where his Lordship stood. The ball 
struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, 
and penetrated his chest. He fell with 
his face on the deck. Captain Hardy, 
who \vas on his right (the side furthest 
from the Enemy) and had advanced 
some steps before his Lordship, on 
turning round, saw the Serjeant Major 
(Seeker) of Marines with two Seamen 
raising him from the deck ; where he 
had fallen on the same spot on which a 
little before, his Secretar}' had breathed 
his last, with whose blood his Lord- 
ship's clothes were much soiled. 

Captain Hardy expressed a hope that 
he was not severely wounded ; to which 
the gallant Chief replied : " They have 
done for me at last, Hardy." 

"I hope not," answered Captain 
Hardy. 

"Yes," replied his Lordship; " my 
backbone is shot through." 

Captain Hardy ordered the Seamen 
to carry the Admiral to the Cockpit ; 
and now two incidents occurred strik- 
ingly characteristic of this great man, 
and strongly marking that energy and 
reflection which in his heroic mind rose 



288 



The Death of Nelson 



superior even to the immediate consid- 
eration of his present awful condition. 
While the men were carrying him down 
the ladder from the iniddle deck, his 
Lordship observed that the tiller ropes 
were not yet replaced ; and desired one 
of the Midshipmen stationed there to go 
upon the quarter deck and remind Cap- 
tain Hardy of that circumstance, and 
request that new ones should be im- 
mediately rove. Having delivered this 
Order, he took his handkerchief from 
his pocket and covered his face with 
it, that he might be conveyed to the 
Cockpit at this crisis unnoticed by the 
crew^. . . . 

His Lordship was laid upon a bed, 
stripped of his clothes, and covered 
with a sheet. While this was effecting, 
he said to Dr. Scott, " Doctor, I told 
you so. Doctor, I am gone;" and 
after a short pause he added in a low 
voice, " I have to leave Lady Hamilton, 
and my adopted daughter Horatia, as a 
legacy to my Country." . . . 

The true nature of his wound was 
concealed by the Surgeon from all on 
board except only Captain Hardy, 
Dr. Scott, Mr. Burke, and Messrs. 
Smith and Westemburg the Assistant 
Surgeons. 

The Victory's crew cheered when- 
ever they observed an Enemy's ship 
surrender. On one of these occasions. 
Lord Nelson anxiously inquired what 
was the cause of it ; when Lieutenant 
Pasco, who lay wounded at some dis- 
tance from his Lordship, raised him- 
self up, and told him that another ship 
had struck, which appeared to give 
him much satisfaction. . . . 

He evinced great solicitude for the 
event of the Battle, and fears for the 
safety of his friend Captain Hardy. 
Dr. Scott and Mr. Burke used every 
argument they could suggest, to relieve 
his anxiety. 

Mr. Burke told him " the Enemy 



were decisively defeated, and that he 
hoped his Lordship would still live to- 
be himself the bearer of the joyful 
tidings to his Country." 

He replied, "it is nonsense, Mr. 
Burke, to suppose I can live : my suffer- 
ings are great, but they will all be soon 
over." 

Dr. Scott entreated his Lordship 
"not to despair of living," and said 
"he trusted that Divine Providence 
would restore him once more to his 
dear Country and friends." 

"Ah, Doctor!" replied his Lord- 
ship, "it is all over ; it is all over ! " 

Many messages were sent to Captain 
Hardy by the Surgeon, requesting his 
attendance on his Lordship ; who be- 
came impatient to see him, and often 
exclaimed : " Will no one bring Hardy 
to me ? He must be killed : he is 
surely destroyed." 

The Captain's Aide-de-Camp Mr. 
Bulkley, now came below, and stated 
that " circumstances respecting the 
Fleet required Captain Hardy's pres- 
ence on deck ; but that he would avail 
himself of the first favourable moment 
to visit his Lordship." . . . 

An hour and ten minutes, however, 
elapsed from the time of his Lordship's 
being wounded before Captain Hardy's 
first subsequent interview with him ; 
the particulars of which are nearly as 
follow. 

They shook hands affectionately, and 
Lord Nelson said : " Well, Hardy, how 
goes the Battle? How goes the day 
with us?" 

"Very well, my Lord," replied 
Captain Hardy : " we have got twelve 
or fourteen of the Enemy's ships in our 
possession ; but five of their Van have 
tacked, and shew an intention of bear- 
ing down upon the Victory. I have 
therefore called two or three of our 
fresh ships around us, and have no 
doubt of giving them a drubbing." 



The Death of Nelson 



289 



" I hope," said his Lordship, " none 
of our ships have struck, Hardy." 

" No, my Lord," replied Captain 
Hardy; "there is no fear of that." 

Lord Nelson then said: "I am a 
dead man, Hardy.- I am going fast; 
it ^vill be all over with me soon. Come 
nearer to me. Pray let my dear Lady 
Hamilton have my hair, and all other 
things belonging to me." Mr. Burke 
was about to withdraw at the com- 
mencement of this conversation; but 
his Lordship, perceiving his intention, 
desired he would remain. 

Captain Hardy observed, that " he 
hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out 
some prospect of life." 

"Oh! no," answered his Lordship ; 
"it is impossible. My back is shot 
through. Beatty will tell you so." 

Captain Hardy then returned on 
deck, and at parting shook hands again 
with his revered friend and Com- 
mander. 

His Lordship now requested the Sur- 
geon, who had previously been absent 
a short time attending Mr. Rivers, to 
return to the wounded ; and give his 
assistance to such of them as he could 
be useful to; "for," said he, "you 
can do nothing for me!" The Sur- 
geon assured him that the Assistant 
Surgeons were doing everything that 
could be effected for those unfortunate 
men; but on his Lordship's several 
times repeating his injunctions to that 
purpose, he left him surrounded by 
Dr. Scott, Mr. Burke, and two of his 
Lordship's domestics. . . . 

He often exclaimed, "God be 
praised, I have done my dut}'," and 
upon the Surgeon's enquiry whether 
his pain was very great, he declared, 
" it continued so very severe, that he 
wished he was dead. Yet," said he in 
a lower voice, " one would like to live 
a little longer, too" : and after a pause 
of a few minutes, he added in the same 



tone, "What would become of poor 
Lady Hamilton, if she knew my situa- 
tion ? " . . . 

Captain Hardy now came to the 
Cockpit to see his Lordship a second 
time, which was after an interval of 
about fifty minutes from the conclusion 
of the first visit. Before he quitted the 
deck he sent Lieutenant Hills to ac- 
quaint Admiral Collingwood with the 
lamentable circumstance of Lord Nel- 
son's being wounded. 

Lord Nelson and Captain Hardy 
shook hands again : and while the 
Captain retained his Lordship's hand, 
he congratulated him even in the arms 
of Death on his brilliant victory ; 
"which," he said, "was complete; 
though he did not know how many of 
the Enemy were captured, as it was 
impossible to perceive every ship dis- 
tinctly. He was certain however of 
fourteen or fifteen having surrendered." 

His Lordship answered, " That is 
well, but I bargained for twenty": 
and then emphatically exclaimed, 
'■'■ Anchor, Hardy, anchor I" 

To this the Captain replied : "I sup- 
pose, my Lord, Admiral Collingwood 
will now take upon himself the direc- 
tion of affairs." 

" Not while I live, I hope. Hardy ! " 
cried the dying Chief ; and at that mo- 
ment endeavoured ineffectually to raise 
himself from the bed. 

" No," added he; " Ao yo7i anchor, 
Hardy." 

Captain Hardy then said : " Shall ive 
make the signal, Sir? " 

"Yes," answered his Lordship; 
"for if I live, I'll anchor." 

The energetic manner in which he 
uttered these his last Orders to Captain 
Hardy, accompanied with his efforts to 
raise himself, evinced his determination 
never to resign the command while he 
retained the exercise of his transcendant 
faculties, and that he expected Captain 



290 



The Death of Nelson 



Hardy still to carry into effect the sug- 
gestions of his exalted mind ; a sense of 
his duty overcoming the pains of death. 

He then told Captain Hardy, " he 
felt that in a few minutes he should be 
no more;" adding in a low tone, 
" Don't throw me overboard, Hardy." 

The Captain answered, " Oh ! no, 
certainly not." 

" Then," replied his Lordship, " you 
know what to do : and" continued he, 
" take care of my dear Lady Hamilton ; 
take care of poor. Lady Hamilton. 
Kiss me, Hardy." 

The Captain now knelt down, and 
kissed his cheek ; when his Lordship 
said, " Now I am satisfied. Thank 
God, I have done my duty." . . . 

His Lordship became speechless in 
about fifteen minutes after Captain 
Hardy left him. Dr. Scott and Mr. 
Burke, who had all along sustained the 
bed under his shoulders (which raised 
him in nearly a semirecumbent posture, 
the only one that was supportable to 
him), forbore to disturb him by speak- 
ing to him ; and when he had remained 
speechless about five minutes, his Lord- 
ship' s Steward went to the Surgeon, 
who had been a short time occupied 
with the wounded in another part of 
the Cockpit, and stated his apprehen- 
sions that his Lordship was dying. 

The Surgeon immediately repaired 
to him, and found him on the verge of 
dissolution. He knelt down by his 
side, and took up his hand ; which was 
cold and the pulse gone from the wrist. 

On the Surgeon's feeling his fore- 
head, which was likewise cold, his 
Lordship opened his eyes, looked up, 
and shut them again. 



The Surgeon again left him, and re- 
turned to the wounded who required 
his assistance ; but was not absent five 
minutes before the Steward announced 
to him that "he believed his Lordship 
had expired." The Surgeon retired, 
and found that the report was but too 
well founded : his Lordship had breathed 
his last, at thirty minutes past four 
o'clock ; at which period Dr. Scott was 
in the act of rubbing his Lordship's 
breast, and Mr. Burke supporting the 
bed under his shoulders. 



^. Letter from Captain Pascoe, flag 
lieutenant on board the Victory. Writ- 
ten thirty-five years after the battle. 
(In Memoir of Codrington. London, 
Longmans, 1S73.) 

His Iprdship came to me on the poop, 
and after ordering certain signals to be 
made, about a quarter to noon he said : 
" Mr. Pascoe, I wish to say to the fleet, 
' England confides that every man will 
do his duty'" — and he added, "You 
must be quick, for I have one more to 
make, which is for close action." I 
replied, "If your lordship will permit 
me to substitute the word ' expects ' for 
' confides ' the signal will sooner be 
completed, because the word ' expects' 
is in the vocabulary, but the word 
'confides' must be spelt." His lord- 
ship replied in haste, and with seeming 
satisfaction, "That will do Pascoe; 
make it directly." When it had been 
answered by a few ships in the van, he 
ordered me to make the signal for close 
action, and to keep it up : accordingly 
I hoisted No. i6atthe top-gallant mast- 
head, and .there it remained until shot 
away. 



-^,:i 

■-^•■-S-; 






/' 



W' 



/i::^^^^^.-''^!^!.'^^'-^^!^'' (/ ^ 



^ 



The Battle of Waterloo 



291 



GROUP XXXI. 



THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 



I. Letter from the Duke of Welling- 
ton to Sir Charles Flint. (In Booth's 
Battle of Waterloo, 3rd Edition. Lon- 
don, 1S17, Vol. I. p. 95.) 

Would you credit it. Napoleon over- 
thrown by the gallantry of a British 
army ! — But I am quite heart-broken by 
the loss I have sustained ; my friends, 
mj' poor soldiers — how many of them 
have I to regret ! — I shall follow up 
this tide of success, and I shall not be 
satisfied even with this victory, if it be 
not followed by the total overthrow of 
Buonaparte. — June iSth. 



2. Letter from Blucher to his wife 
immediately after the battle. (In 
Booth's Battle of Waterloo. London, 
1817, Vol. L p. 96.) 

My dear Wife : You well remember 
what I promised you, and I have kept 
my word. The Enemy's superiority of 
numbers obliged me to give way on the 
17th, but on the i8th, in conjunction 
with my friend Wellington, I put an 
end at once to Buonaparte's dancing. 
His army is completely routed, and the 
whole of his artillery, baggage, 
caissons, and equipages, are in my 
hands ; the insignia of all the various 
orders he had worn, are just brought 
me, having been found in his carriage, 
in a casket. I had two horses killed 
under me yesterday. It will soon be 
all over with Buonaparte. 

Blucher. 
"P. S. (Written by the Prince's son, 
on the road to Genappe.) Father 
Blucher embraced Wellington in such 
a hearty manner, that every body who 
were present, said it was the most 
affecting scene that could be imagined." 



3. Letter of Blucher to his wife. 
(From Colomb : Blucher in Brief en 
aus den Feldziigen 1S13-15. Stuttgart, 
1876, p. 151.) 

Gosselies, June 25, 1S15. 
I have pretty well recovered from my 
fall, but again one of my horses has 
been wounded. I do not expect that 
there will be any more fighting of con- 
sequence here in the near future, per- 
haps none at all ; our victory is the 
most complete that has ever been 
gained. Napoleon disappeared in the 
night without hat or sword ; I am send- 
ing his hat and sword to the King to- 
day. His splendid robe of state and 
his carriage are in my hands ; I possess 
also the field-glass through which he 
watched us on the day of the battle. I 
will send you the carriage ; it is onl)' a 
pity that it has been injured. His 
jewels and all his valuables have be- 
come the booty of our troops ; nothing 
is left of his equipment at all and many 
a soldier is five or six thousand thalers 
the richer. He was in his carriage on 
his way back when he was surprised 
by our troops. He sprang out, threw 
himself on his horse without his sword, 
his hat at the same time falling off, and 
thus apparently favored by the night 
made his escape — whither, Heaven only 
knows. To-day I push on into France 
with the greater part of the army. The 
results of this victory are incalculable 
and according to my judgment must 
include Napoleon's ruin; the French 
nation must and will despise him. Then 
I hope peace will ensue and, with 
God's help, before the winter I will be 
with you again. Your brother- is per- 
fectly well and fought as an excellent 
officer with his new regiment on the 
day of the battle. All my suite are 



292 



The Battle of Waterloo 



sound and well and I am looking eager- 
ly for news from you. 

I am trembling so that I can not 
write much myself — nor have I any 
time. Farewell and continue to love 
Your dearest friend. 



4. Extract of a Letter from an officer 
of the Guards. (In Booth's Battle of 
Waterloo. London, 1S17, Vol. I. p. 
61 ff.) 
Village of Gommignies, June 23, 1S15. 

. . . The 2nd and 3d battalions of 
the first regiment were formed with the 
two battalions of Brunswickers into 
hollow squares, on the slope and sum- 
mit of the hill, so as to support each 
other ; and in this situation we all lay 
down, till between three and four 
o'clock P. M., in order to avoid the 
storm of death, which was flying close 
over our heads, and at almost every 
moment carrying destruction among 
us : and it is, you will allow, a circum- 
stance highly creditable to those men, 
to have lain so many hours under a fire, 
which for intensity and precision was 
never, I believe, equalled ; with nothing 
else to occupy their attention, save 
watching their companions falling 
around them, and listening to their 
mournful cries. It was about the time 
I have just named, that the Enemy, 
having gained the orchard, commenced 
their desperate charges of cavalry, un- 
der cover of the smoke, which the burn- 
ing houses, etc, had caused ; the whole 
of which the wind drifted towards us, 
and thus prevented our observing their 
approach. At this period the battle 
assumed a character beyond descrip- 
tion interesting, and anxiously awful. 
Buonapart6 was about to use against us 
an arm, which he bad never yet wielded 
but with success. Confidently relying 
upon the issue of this attack, he 
charged our artillery and infantry, hop- 
ing to capture the one, and break the 



other, and, by instantly establishing 
his own infantry on the heights, to carry 
the Brussels road, and throw our line 
into confusion. These cavalry, selected 
for their tried gallantry and skill (not 
their height or mustachios) , who were 
the terror of Northern Europe, and had 
never yet been foiled, were first brought 
up by the 3rd battalion of the ist regi- 
ment. Never was British valour and 
discipline so pre-eminent as on this 
occasion ; the steady appearance of this 
battalion caused the famous Cuirassiers 
to pull up ; and a few of them, with 
the courage worthy of a better cause, 
rode out of the ranks, and fired at our 
people and mounted officers, with their 
pistols, hoping to make the face of the 
square throw its fire upon them, and 
thus become an easy prey : but our 
men, with a steadiness no language 
could do justice to, defied their efforts, 
and did not pull a single trigger. The 
French then made a sudden rush, but 
were received in such a manner, and 
with a volley so well directed, as at 
once to turn them ; they then made an 
attempt on the 2nd battalion, and the 
Brunswickers, with similar success. . . . 
Buonaparte renewed his cannonade, 
which was destructive to a degree, pre- 
paratory to an attack of his whole 
infantry. I constantly saw the noble 
Duke of Wellington riding backwards 
and forwards like the Genius of the 
storm, who, borne upon his wings, 
directed its thunder where to burst. 
He was everywhere to be found, 
encouraging, directing, animating. He 
was in a blue short cloak, and a plain 
cocked hat, his telescope in his hand ; 
there was nothing that escaped him, 
nothing that he did not take advantage 
of, and his lynx's eyes seemed to pene- 
trate the smoke, and forestall the move- 
ments of the foe. How he escaped, 
that merciful Power alone can tell, 
who vouchsafed to the allied arms the 



The Battle of Waterloo 



293 



issue of this pre-eminent contest; for 
such it is, whether considered as an 
action by itself, or with regard to the 
results which it had brought about. 
Upon the cavalry being repulsed, the 
Duke himself ordered our second bat- 
talion to form line with the third bat- 
talion, and, after advancing to the brow 
of the hill, to lie down and shelter our- 
selves from the fire. Here we remained, 
I imagine near an hour. It was now 
about seven o'clock. The French 
infantry had in vain been brought up 
against our line, and, as a last resource, 
Buonaparte resolved upon attacking 
our part of the position with his veteran 
Imperial Guard, promising them the 
plunder of Brussels. Their artillery 
covered them, and they advanced in 
solid column to where we hiy. The 
Duke, who was riding behind us, 
■watched their approach, and at length, 
when within a hundred yaixls of us, 
exclaimed, "Up, Guards, and at them, 
again!" Never was there a prouder 
moment than this for our country and 
ourselves. The household troops of 
both nations were now, for the first 
time, brought in contact, and on the 
issue of their struggle the greatest of 
stakes was placed. The Enemy did 
not expect to meet us so soon ; we suf- 
fered them to approach still nearer, and 
then delivered a fire into them, which 
made them halt; a second, like the 
first, carried hundreds of deaths into 
their mass ; and, without suffering them 
to deploy, we gave them three British 
cheers, and a British charge of the bay- 
onet. This was too much for their 
nerves, and they tied in disorder. The 
shape of their column was tracked by 
their dying and dead, and not less than 
three hundred of them had fallen in two 
minutes to rise no more. Seeing the 
fate of their companions, a regiment of 
tirailleurs of the Guard attempted to 
attack our flank ; we instantly charged 



them, and our cheers rendered any 
thing further unnecessary, for they 
never awaited our approach. The 
French now formed solid squares in 
their rear, to resist our advance, which, 
however, our cavalry cut to pieces. 
The Duke now ordered the whole line 
to move forward ; nothing could be 
more beautiful. The sun, which had 
hitherto been veiled, at this instant shed 
upon us in departing rays, as if to smile 
upon the efforts we were making, and 
bless them with success. As we pro- 
ceeded in line down the slope, the reg- 
iments on the high ground on our 
flanks were formed into hollow squares, 
in which manner they accompanied us, 
in order to protect us from cavalry — the 
blow was now struck, the victory was 
complete, and the Enemy fled in every 
direction : his deroute was the most 
perfect ever known, in the space of a 
mile and a half along the road, we 
found more than thirty guns, besides 
ammunition wagons, etc., etc. Our 
noble and brave coadjutors, the Prus- 
sians, who had some time since been 
dealing out havock in the rear of the 
Enemy, now falling in with our line of 
march, we halted, and let them continue 
the pursuit. Buonaparte fled the field 
on the advance of the Prussians, and 
the annihilation of his Imperial Guard, 
with whose overthrow all his hopes 
perished. Thus ended the day of 
" Waterloo." The skill and courage 
of our artillery could not be exceeded. 
The brigade of Guards, in Hougoumont, 
suffered nothing to rob them of their 
post : every regiment eclipsed its former 
deeds by the glories of to-day ; and I 
cannot better close this than by inform- 
ing you, that when we halted for the 
night, wrhich we did close to where 
Buonaparte had been during a great 
portion of the battle, and were pre- 
paring our bivouac by the road side, a 
regiment of Prussian lancers cominsr 



294 



The Battle of Waterloo 



by, halted, and played "God save the 
King," than which nothing could be 
more appropriate or gi-ateful to our 
feelings; and I am sure I need scarcely 
add, that we gave them three heartfelt 
cheers, as the only return we could 
then offer." 



to illuminate ruinously on this occa- 
sion. We have done nothing like it 
since Blenheim, and the consequences 
are likely to be far more important. 
Ever your affectionate brother 

W. M. GoMM. 



5. Letters of a young officer to his 
sister. (From Letters and Journals of 
Sir W. M. Gomm. London, Murray, 
1S81, p. 349.) 

Brussels, June 13th, 1S15. 

Since I last wrote to you 1 have been 
attached to the 5th division (Picton's) ; 
it is not certain, however, that I shall 
continue with it. This, however, se- 
cures me a place in the world when- 
ever the army moves. . . . 

Camp of Waterloo, June 19th. 

I know what satisfaction it will give 
you to learn that I have been with the 
5th division, and, therefore, in the hot- 
test of all this " glorious business," and 
have escaped with two blows which 
are of no consequence, and two horses 
wounded which is of great consequence. 

The Prussians are marching upon 
Charleroi, and we move upon Nivelles 
immediately. 

I consider the French army as utterly 
destroyed, and we shall be in Paris as 
fast as our legs can carry us. Tell 
Aunt so, and recommend her to leave 
off croaking. I am writing this unin- 
telligibly enough, but it would be still 
worse by word of mouth at this mo- 
ment, for I am so hoarse at hurraing 
all yesterday that I can scarcely articu- 
late. 

I have been four days without wash- 
ing face or hands, but am in hourly 
expectation of my lavender water, etc. 
I am very tired. Adieu, dear Sophia ; 
I hope this will reach you early, for I 
well know how anxious you all will be 
about me. Best love to Aunt, Henry, 
Goully and all friends. I am much 
afraid dear Goully will be called upon 



6. Letter of Gneisenau to Madame 
von Clausewitz and Countess Dohna. 
(In Pertz-Delbriick, Das Leben Gneise- 
naus, Vol. IV. p. 535.) 

Henappe-sur-Oise, not far from Guise, 
June 24, 1S15. 

My revered Friends : If the evening 
in Namur pleased you, you had better 
set out at once and follow us, for in or 
near Paris we can celebrate a similar 
or even merrier evening. 

First of all you must know that your 
husbands are safe and sound. The 
third Army Corps had to cover our rear 
while we were fighting. It suffered 
violent attacks and fought on the iSth, 
19th and 20th. Dohna and his regi- 
ment made a fine attack near Namur, 
conquering five cannon and thus estab- 
lishing the fame of his regiment. It 
went hard witli the third Corps at first 
but it has come out all right. Had we 
lost the battle it would have been our 
only stand-by. 

Never vsras there a finer battle than 
ours at Belle-Alliance (Waterloo) ; 
never was one more decisive ; the 
enemy annihilated as never an enemy 
before. With several army Corps we 
had crept round in the rear of the 
enemy, who with greatly superior num- 
bers and still greater violence had at- 
tacked the Duke of Wellington, and 
had concealed a number of our brigades 
in a wood. Just when the fate of the 
day was wavering, when the British 
army had already considerably lost 
ground and the enemy was about to 
give it its death-blow we made up our 
minds, in spite of the fact that most of 
our brigades had not yet come up, to 




if'/U/// 



C''iW<'A//Y 7;'y/'/:;<C/;-/ nr>'//rf./^ (,//i"/.. 



OV/'. xit Sritilda 



VS. Orfo/i. i;tiO , yes! . IV I'osen avi H4.Ji,ff. WSt 



The Battle of Waterloo 



295 



make the attack with only two brigades. 
We burst forth from the wood, directly 
in the rear of the enemy, and opened 
our fire. The enemy was in a desper- 
ate situation and fought, indeed, with 
desperation, throwing all its reserves 
against us. We kept our positions. 
The enemy led troop after troop against 
us, but we too gained reinforcements 
from one quarter of an hour to another. 

The firing was so violent that with 
every pulse beat one of the enemy's 
balls whizzed by, not to speak of our 
own shots. I could hardly hear the 
messages that came and even with my 
strong voice had often to exert myself 
very much in order to be heard. As 
reinforcements came up we now pressed 
forward cautiously but uninterruptedly. 
It was a fine spectacle to see our four- 
cornered batallions descend the terraced 
heights with their batteries and tirail- 
leurs in front. After a stubborn resist- 
ance the enemy scattered in wild flight. 

I made up my mind to leave him no 
rest, put myself at the head of the 
troops, encouraged the wearied ones to 
follow me and thus with only a few 
cannon which I let thunder forth from 
time to time I chased the enemy from 
all his bivouacs. Thus we followed, 
constantly shooting and hevi'ing them 
down, until we came to the encamp- 
ment of the Guards. Bonaparte had 
intended to stop in Jenappe but when 
he heard our cannon-shots and our in- 
fantry and cavalry, small as they were, 
came up, he fled from his carriage de- 
fending himself with a pistol. His hat 
and sword remained in our hands. We 
have his whole baggage, his diamonds 
even. My fusileers sold four or five 
diamonds as large and larger than peas 
for a few francs. Qiute a number of 
diamonds fell to our share of this size 
(drawing about the size of a small bean) 
and one even of this size (large as a 
pigeon-egg.) The fusileers chose out 



the finest and sent them as a present to 
the King. The subalterns of this bat- 
allion dine now off silver. As my 
share of the booty I kept Bonaparte's 
seal, the one with which I seal this 
letter. We did not halt until day- 
break. It was the most glorious night 
of my life. The moon lighted up the 
beautiful scene; the weather was mild. 
This news that I am sending you might 
very well be put in the Dusseldorf 
paper, but without mentioning my 
name. 

We have conquered more than 400 
cannon. The enemy is hastening in 
wild flight towards Paris or else is 
scattering far and wide. Bonaparte in 
a round hat hurried through Beaumont. 

Our loss is great. In the three days 
of battle we have lost nearly 32000 men 
in dead and wounded. But the army 
for the most part showed out magnif- 
icently. It is unheard-of in history 
that twenty-four hours after a lost bat- 
tle a new one is engaged in and so 
decisive a victory gained. 

The interest which you, honored 
ladies, take in my person is for me a 
sweet reward. In the last battle I again 
had a horse shot through with a cannon- 
ball while another was twice wounded 
by a small ball. My sabre was once 
knocked out of its sheath, another time 
shot in pieces. My contusion is not 
worth mentioning. God preserve you, 
brave German women ! For such 
women one is glad to fight. May my 
daughters grow up with such senti- 
ments in their breasts. 

Gneisenau. 

7. Correspondence between Gneis- 
enau andMiiffling. (In Pertz-Delbriick, 
Gneisenau' s Leben, Vol. IV. pp. 543 
ff.) Translation, 

a. Gneisenait to JSIuffling. 
Compiegne, June 37, 1S15. 
The French General de Ti-omelin is in 
Noyons on his way to the headquarters 



296 



The Battle of Waterloo 



of the Duke of Wellington in order to 
treat about the handing over of Bona- 
parte. 

Bonaparte has been pronounced an 
outlaw by the declaration of the allied 
powers. It is possible that the Duke 
of Wellington, out of i-egard for Par- 
liament, will hesitate to carry out the 
sentence of the powers. You accord- 
ingly are to direct the negotiations in 
this matter to the end that Bonaparte 
be handed over to us to be put to 
death. 

Thus eternal justice wills it, thus the 
declaration of the 13th of March deter- 
mines, thus will the blood of our 
soldiers who were killed and mutilated 
on the 1 6th and iSth be avenged. 

VON Gneisenau. 

b. Muffling to Gneisenau. 

Nesle, June 38th, 1S15. 

I have had a conversation with the 
Duke of Wellington concerning the 
surrender and execution of Bonaparte. 
He gave me two answers ; the first as 
British marshal : 

That he believed now our first duty 
was to march on Paris. Could we 
effect Napoleon's surrender we would 
have to accept it but he did not believe 
that the declaration of the 13th of 
March authorized an execution for 
" livre a la vindicte publique " did not 
determine that he should be regarded 
as an outlaw, but that he should be 
proceeded against judicially. After 
the recent great events that had hap- 
pened he considered that it was not a 
case of pericula in mora and accord- 
ingly would feel it his duty in case 
Napoleon were handed over to Prince 
Bliicher and the latter should wish to 
execute him to request the prince in 
writing to postpone the matter. 

As a friend the Duke spoke as fol- 
lows : 



The Prince could have Napoleon 
executed in two ways, either after a 
trial or by shooting him without cer- 
emony. If the good of Europe de- 
manded it he himself would have no 
compunctions, but as this was not the 
case such an execution would go down 
in history as an action odieiise even 
though the generation alive at present 
should not blame it. The Duke con- 
sidered that which these two armies 
had accomplished to be so great that 
the two commanders by exercising mod- 
eration could only add to the glory of 
their deeds. 

I answered that it seemed to me if 
Prince Bliicher were to proceed against 
Napoleon it would be an acte de de- 
voitenteitt, inasinuch as one could be 
certain the sovereigns would grant 
Bonaparte his life. 

I am not a sovereign, answered the 
Duke, but I believe the Prince will 
think as I do — in the condition in 
which we are, nous ne cederons a 
aucun souverain ; and why should we 
do something that sovereigns would not 
do or about which anyone could say to 
us, they would not have done it? 

c. Gneisenau to I^Iv/ffling. 

Senlis, June 29, 18 15. 

The Field-marshal orders me still to 
say that you shall explain to the Duke 
of Wellington that it had been the 
Field-marshal's intention to execute 
Bonaparte on the same spot where the 
Duke of Enghien was shot, but that 
out of regard for the Duke's wishes he 
would omit the execution. The Duke 
however must assume the responsibility 
for such omission. 

It seems to me as if the English 
would be embarrassed with regard to 
this surrender of Bonaparte. You are 
therefore to negotiate solely on the basis , 
of his being handed over to us. 

N. VON Gneisenau. 




NAPOLEON JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 





NAPOLEON ON THE ISLAND OF ST. HELENA. 

(From an engraving of Horace Vernet's picture.) 



The Battle of Waterloo 



297 



d. Gneisenait to Muffling. 

Senlis, June 29, 1S15. 

If the Duke of Wellington declares 
against the execution of Bonaparte, he 
thinks and acts like a Briton. To no 
mortal man is Great Britain under 
greater obligations than to just this 
rascal, for through the events that he 
brought to pass England's greatness, 
prosperity and wealth have been so 
vastly increased. They are lords of 
the sea and neither in this dominion 
nor in the commerce of the world have 
they any more rivalry to fear. 

It is quite different with us Prussians. 
We have been impoverished by him. 
Our nobility can never again recover. 



And should we not look upon our- 
selves as instruments of Providence 
which has granted us such a victory in 
order that we should exercise eternal 
justice? Does not the -death of the 
Duke of Enghien call for such ven- 
geance? Shall we not subject our- 
selves to the reproaches of the peoples 
of Prussia, Russia, Spain and Portugal 
if we omit to render justice ? 

Well, so be it then ! If people wish 
to exercise a theatrical great-hearted- 
ness I will not oppose them. I take 
this attitude because of regard for the 
Duke and — of powerlessness. 

Count Gneisenau. 



GROUP XXXII. 

AN AMERICAN MINISTER AT THE COURT OF LONDON 

London, 



(From Rush's Narrative. 
1S33, pp. 97«-) 

February 35, iSiS. 

Having brought from my Govern- 
ment a letter of credence to the Queen, 
I was this day presented to her. It 
was called a private presentation, and 
took place at Buckingham Palace. 

I got to the palace before the hour 
fixed. Servants were at the door, and 
in the hall. Ascending an ample stair- 
case, the master of ceremonies received 
me in one of the rooms of a suite, all 
open, but no one else in them. When 
five o'clock came, he conducted me to 
the audience-room, which I entered 
alone. 

Immediately before me was the 
Qiieen. On her right was one of the 
Princesses, her daughter ; on her left 
another. Near them were two ladies 
in waiting. All were in full court- 
dresses ; and all standing. In another 
part of the room were her Majesty's 
Chamberlain, and the Duke of Mont- 
rose. These made up the whole as- 



semblage. All was silence. Approach- 
ing the Queen, I said ; — " Having been 
accredited by his Royal Highness, the 
Prince Regent, as Envoy Extraordinary 
and Minister Plenepotentiary from the 
United States, I have now the honor to 
present this letter to Your Majesty. In 
executing the duties of my mission, 
I have it in charge from the President 
so to bear myself as to give hope of 
gaining your Majesty's esteem; and 
this I beg to assure your Majesty will be 
my constant ambition." She received 
the letter. As she took it she said that 
the sentiments I expressed were very 
obliging, and entered into conversation. 
Learning I was from Philadelphia she 
asked questions about it, and others 
respecting the United States, generally ; 
all put in a very kind spirit. The in- 
terview lasted about fifteen minutes. 

The Qiieen was then seventy-six. 
Her birthday was the day following. 
As I entered the room, and during the 
whole interview, there was a benignity 
in her manner, which, in union with 



298 An American Minister at London 



her age and rank, was both attractive 
and touching. The tones of her voice 
had a gentleness the result, in part, of 
years; but full as much of intended 
suavity to a stranger. The scene as it 
first broke upon me, its novelty, its 
quiet yet impressive, stateliness became 
almost immediately, by her manner, 
one of naturalness and ease. My im- 
mediate predecessor, Mr. Adams, when 
presented to her, made an allusion to 
qualities in her character, which, as I 
came to learn through a good source 
that it was advantageously remembered 
at the English Court, I will repeat. 
His mission commenced in 1815, directly 
after the war between the two countries. 
He said, that the political relations be- 
tween them had been subject to the 
versatility that attended all human 
affairs; that dissensions had arisen, 
which however had been removed ; 
but that the reverence commanded by 
her Majesty's private virtues had been 
subject to no such change ; it had been 
invariably felt by his Government, and 
he could utter no wish more propitious 
to the happiness of both countries, than 
that the future harmony between them 
might be equally unalterable. The 
allusion was happy because it was just. 
Throughout a long life she had been 
uniformly distinguished by her private 
virtues, and her efforts to imprint them 
upon the times. I saw her sinking 
below the horizon. But the serenity 
that I saw betokened that as the splen- 
doi-s of her day were setting she had a 
consciousness that it was not for them 
alone she had lived. 

Feb. 37. 

Yesterday her Majesty held a draw- 
ing-room. It was in celebration of her 
birth-day. My wife was presented by 
Lady Castlereagh. . . . 

Four rooms were allotted to the 
ceremony. In the second was the 
Queen. She sat on a velvet chair and 



cushion, a little raised up. ... If the 
scene in the hall was picturesque, the 
one upstairs transcended it. The doors 
of the rooms were all open. You saw 
in them a thousand ladies richly dressed. 
All the colors of nature were mingling 
their rays together. It was the first 
occasion of laying by mourning for the 
Princess Charlotte ; so that it was like 
the bursting out of spring. No lady 
was without her plume. The whole 
was a waving field of feathers. Some 
were blue, like the sky ; some tinged 
with red ; here you saw violet and yel- 
low ; there, shades of green. But the 
most were like tufts of snow. The 
diamonds encircling them caught the 
sun through the windows and threw 
dazzling beams around. Then the 
hoops ! I cannot describe these. They 
should be seen. To see one is nothing. 
But to see a thousand — and their thou- 
sand wearers ! I afterwards sat in the 
Ambassadors' box at a coronation. 
That sight faded before this. Each 
lady seemed to rise out of a gilded little 
barricade ; or one of silvery texture. 
This, topped by her plume, and the 
"face divine" interposing, gave to the 
whole an effect so unique, so fraught 
with feminine grace and grandeur, that 
it seemed as if a curtain had risen to 
show a pageant in another sphere. It 
was brilliant and joyous. Those to 
whom it was not new, stood at gaze as 
I did. Canning for one. His fine 
eye took it all in. You saw admiration 
in the gravest statesmen ; Lord Liver- 
pool, Huskisson, the Lord Chancellor, 
everybody. I had already seen in 
England signs enough of opulence and 
power. Now I saw, radiating on all 
sides, British beauty. My own coun- 
try I believed was destined to a just 
measure of the two first ; and I had 
the inward assurance that my country- 
women were the inheritresses of the 
last. A'latre pulchra filia fulchrior. 







.j;>,„,,....'UA^,. 






KING WILLIAM IV. AS A BOY. 
(Engraved by Bartolozzi.) 



An American Minister at London 299 



So appeared the dra wing-room of Qiieen 
Charlotte. 

April Sth. 

The Princess Elizabeth was married 
last evening to the Prince of Hesse 
Homburg. . . . Our invitation was 
from the Qiieen, given through the 
Earl of Winchelsea, nearly three weeks 
before. . . . Soon after the service was 
performed the bride and bridegroom 
set off for Windsor. The company re- 
mained. The evening passed in high 
ceremony, without excluding social 
ease. From the members of the royal 
family the guests had every measure of 
courtesy. The conduct of the Queen 
was remarkable. This venerable per- 
sonage, the head of a large family — 
her children then clustering about her ; 
the female head of a great empire — in 
the seventy-sixth year of her age — went 
the rounds of the company, speaking to 
all. There was a kindliness in her 
manner from which time had struck 
away useless forms. No one did she 
omit. Around her neck hung a minia- 
ture portrait of the King. He was ab- 
sent, scathed by the hand of Heaven ; a 
marriage going on in one of his pal- 
aces ; he the lonely, suffering tenant of 
another. But the portrait was a token 
superior to a crown ! It bespoke the 
natural glory of wife and mother, 
eclipsing the artificial glory of Qiieen. 
For more than fifty years this royal pair 
had lived together in affection. The 
scene would have been one of interest 
anywhere. May it not be noticed on a 
throne .''... 

April 16, iSiS. 

Went to the Court of King's Bench 
to hear the argument in the case of 
wager of battle. The parties were 
present. Through the courtesy of the 
Judges, I had a seat on the bench, next 
to Mr. Justice Bayley. On his left 
was Lord Chief Justice Ellenborough, 
occupying the seat of the Cokes, the 



Hales, tlie Mansilelds. To the left of 
Lord Ellenborough were Mr. Justice 
Abbot and Mr. Justice Holroyd. If at 
Lord Hardwicke's I was awake to the 
associations which the great legal names 
of England call up, the feeling could 
not be less here. The room was ex- 
tremely full. The case was so remark- 
able as to have become a topic in gen- 
eral society. 

By the ancient law of England, when 
a person was murdered, the nearest 
relative of the deceased might bring 
what was called an appeal of death, 
against the party accused of the mur- 
der. Under this proceeding, the ac- 
cuser and accused fought. The weap- 
ons were clubs. The battle began at 
sunrise, and was in presence of the 
Judges ; by whom also the dress of the 
combatants, and all other formalities 
were arranged. Part of the oath was, 
that neither combatant would resort to 
witchcraft. If the accused was slain, 
it was taken as proof of his guilt ; if 
the accuser, of his innocence. If the 
former held out until star-light, that 
also attested his innocence. If either 
yielded whilst able to fight, it worked 
his condemnation and disgrace. Those 
who wish a full description of the pro- 
ceedings, inay seek it in Sully, or con- 
tinental writers of an earlier day, as 
Froissart, the custom having been im- 
ported into England by the Normans. 
My summary will give the general idea. 

It was a mode of trial for dark ages. 
Ashford the appellor, had accused 
Thornton the appellee, of the inurder 
of one of his relations, and the latter 
desired to fight. In the highest tribu- 
nal of the most enlightened country of 
Europe, I was listening to a discussion 
whether or not this mode of trial was 
in force in the nineteenth century ! It 
was difficult to persuade myself of the 
reality of the scene. Sir Humphrey 
Davy's remark was fresh in my mind. 



300 An American Minister at London 



Mr. Chitty, a lawyer of eminence, 
argued against the right of battle. Mr. 
Tindall had argued on the other side, 
on a former day. Fleta, Bracton, the 
Year-books, and other repositories of 
ancient law, were ransacked. Abun- 
dant ability was displayed on both sides. 
The greatest order prevailed, even grav- 
ity. The Judges v^^ere in their robes. 
About seventy lawyers sat in front of 
them ; all in gowns and wigs. Finally, 
the Judges decided that trial by battle 
•was in force. It had never, it seems, 
been repealed. 

To repeal laws, belongs to the legis- 
lature. Courts expound and apply 
them. Free government is complex, 
and works slowly ; tyranny is simple, 
and does its work at once. An absurd 
law may sleep in a free code, because 
overlooked ; but, whilst there, it is the 
law. It is so, I suppose, that we must 
reason ; and generally the reasoning 
would be right. Yet it might have 
been thought, that, in a case like this, 
long disuse added to obvious absurdity, 
would have worked the silent repeal of 
the law ; according to the doctrine of 
desuetude under the Roman code. 

In the end, no battle was fought. A 



technical flaw interposed to prevent it, 
and Parliament passed a repealing 
statute. But the case marks an inci- 
dent in English jurisprudence, having 
come near to converting the Court of 
King's Bench into another Lyceum of 
Mendoza. 

On the 17th of November, died the 
Queen. She expired at Kew Palace, 
after a long illness. . . . Her funeral 
was on the 2nd of December, at Wind- 
sor. The body had lain in state for 
the time usual. The procession moved 
from Kew. I went there with my sons. 
The multitude was so great, of carriages, 
persons on horseback, and foot passen- 
gers, that it inight be said to form a 
compact mass from London to Kew, a 
distance of eight miles. . . . On the 
3rd of December the theatres were re- 
opened. I went to Drury-Lane. The 
house was crowded and everybody in 
black for the Qiieen. Orders for 
court mourning take in only a limited 
class ; but the streets, as the theatres, 
are filled with persons of all classes, 
who put it on. Even children wear it, 
and servants. Such is the usage of the 
country. 




KING WILLIAM iV. 




QUEEN VICTORIA. 
('About [840 A. D. Anonymous engraving.) 



2/ 



JUN 11 190Q 




Tfio Qu^.e^^Z'.lJoM'cr-^&r: he^ TctiZ 6i>m.^ iJi~£'21orvl' h^zc^M'S £^/t^ 







TauZ- ^mf^e^rs 




CHRISTENING OF H. R, II. THE PRINCE OF WALES, 184I A. D. 
(Contemporary caricatures.) 




•Jtru^hia oF^^A^ C-oc^i'^ 



The. S?yo/-^ of Stoi2^ 6ar/^ S/ Iks 







^ts7po;cs 




to He J- Mofesly 



atn^.y€sstsd£>c^t.^ . Pejv opener: 



CHRISTENING OF H. R. H. THE PRINCE OF WALES, 1S4I A. D, 
(Contemporary caricatures.) 




Thj»Xoye»Z Cod- 



Ush^ or zAAilctU Ticx^ 




Ti^e^ pry .VUrsdi> 



Pap JBeJx^sru. 



A^hpkin- deay&ry to <^4Zio. 




The.' 0'e4. Miiyacs 
CHRISTENING OF H. R. H. THE PRINCE OF WALES, 184I A. D. 
{Contemporary caricatures.) 



Uh 2 47 



